Sympathy For The Devil
by Pit Viper of Doom
Summary: At the heart of it, the entire affair came down to bad timing, coincidences, and spur-of-the-moment decisions. And, of course, Kevin's stupid conscience. (Reverse!AU)
1. For Want of a Nail

(Author's Note: The Reverse!AU belongs to Asphyxion on Tumblr.)

* * *

"_Swim meet today evening! Come give soup to the team!_"

"_That's 'support', Ed…_"

Nazz turned away from the spectacle on the screen to shoot Kevin a meaningful look. "You going again?"

"Might as well," Kevin sighed, his cheek still stinging from where he had peeled off Eddward's latest label. "God, you know, the place is always packed and I'm pretty sure Eddward just calls me 'pumpkin' because at this point it'd be too awkward to ask me what my actual name is. I don't get why he insists on me being there all the time when he clearly doesn't care about my existence in any other area."

"Dude, once was enough for me," Nat grumbled. "You _really_ want to go to another one?"

Kevin shrugged. "I dunno, Nat, I just feel like blowing him off would be asking for trouble, you know? And it's a couple hours out of my Friday, so it's not like I'm losing much."

Nat rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. Let me know if anything interesting happens."

"Heh, sure."

"I'm pretty sure Marie's going, so I think I will, too," Nazz offered. "Wanna go together, or should we meet up here?"

"I'm gonna be taking my bike, so…"

"Right. I'll meet you here, then."

"Ha ha, very funny."

The rest of the period rushed by, until the ringing bell brought sighs of relief from nearly all students present. Kevin kept close to his friends as they left the classroom. All around them, their classmates chattered noisily about anything from the evening's event to weekend plans to some hilarious incident that went down in the cafeteria. The hallway was nearly choked with a veritable throng, as it usually was when school let out on Fridays, and Kevin gladly ducked out of it when Nazz paused by Marie's locker. Nat and Rolf were moving on already, seemingly heedless, but Kevin was grateful for a break from all the shoving.

"Hey, Marie!" At Nazz's greeting, Marie promptly did that adorable thing where she pretended the sound of Nazz's voice didn't make her melt on the inside, and Kevin pretended to notice something across the hall so that neither girl would see him grinning. Sometimes he wondered if Nazz was really as oblivious to their friend's crush as she seemed. Not that he was about to ask. Marie had already sworn him to secrecy a while ago, and even if she hadn't, he wouldn't have had the heart to spoil it for either of them.

Marie grinned, looking tired and distracted. She had been focused on her phone, but at their approach she pocketed it. "Hey. Are you guys coming to the swim meet again?"

"Yeah, me and Kevin are." Nazz blinked at her, looking concerned. "…Hey, are you feeling okay?"

Marie's face, previously pale, turned slightly pink. "Uh. Yeah. Just, um… woke up with a pretty nasty headache, and I'm a little tired, that's all. But I still plan on going. Wouldn't miss a swim meet for the world. Save me a seat, will you? I may run a little late."

"Okay, sure thing!"

"We'll see you the–" Kevin began, only to be cut off when another, much taller student shoved past him, nearly knocking him over.

"Watch it, dweeb!" Nazz looked ready to shout back at him, but Kevin nudged her quickly to keep her from jumping into a needless argument.

"You okay?" Marie asked. Kevin nodded, re-shouldering his bag.

"It's fine," he said, hoping he sounded carefree enough. "Happens enough that it doesn't bother me anymore." _No point in complaining when jerks don't hear you anyway._

Nazz seemed to shake herself, as if brushing off her previous annoyance. "We'd better go, though," she said. "_I_ better, anyway. I need to get started on homework."

"It _is _the weekend, though," Kevin pointed out. "Unless you've got an essay or something."

"No, but we have Quiz Bowl practice on Saturday, remember?" Nazz blinked, then smacked her forehead suddenly. "Crap, and I have a violin lesson right after. So yeah, there's that, and we're going to the swim meet later on top of it, so–"

"Ah, excellent. Glad to hear that I made an impression."

Kevin started, and immediately regretted it when he turned to look at the speaker. Eddward's abrupt presence (not even an arrival, he was just suddenly _there_) had caught him off guard, and what was worse, the bully knew it. He had seen Kevin jump, and he looked obnoxiously smug about it. Kevin glared at him, longing to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Wow, it sure is getting crowded here," Nazz said lightly, taking Kevin by the arm. "See you later, Marie. We'll save you a seat."

Marie waved back, looking equal parts weary and apologetic. "Thanks, guys."

"Hope she's okay," Nazz murmured to Kevin as they rejoined the rest of the crowd and moved away from friend and foe alike. "Is there a flu going around? I'd hate for her to get sick."

Kevin grinned in spite of himself, doing his level best to put Eddward out of his mind for the time being. "She'll be fine. I think–" Someone jostled him again, and this time he sidestepped to avoid another confrontation. Three students – junior year jocks, by the look of them – shouldered their way past. It was never his intention to eavesdrop, but they were close enough that he couldn't help but pick up snippets of their conversation.

"–but did you get it?"

"Yeah, I – hard as fuck to–"

"Shut up, we just passed – he'll hear–"

"Quit complaining – got the key – today's the day." They moved on, and Kevin heard no more from them.

"That doesn't bode well," he muttered.

"Did you say something?" Nazz asked.

"It's not important. Come on, there's the door. Let's go before we get trampled."

Marie had watched them as they left, frowning regretfully at the rather ill-natured parting. She thought longingly of taking a nap once she returned home, but there was homework to be done and a swim meet to attend. Besides, with her head still throbbing like this, the possibility of sleep was doubtful. Massaging her temple with one hand, she turned back to her friend.

"Can you not?"

"I have no idea what you are referring to," Eddward replied glibly.

Marie glared at him, but furrowing her brow worsened her headache, so she allowed the matter to drop for the moment. "Just so you know, I'll probably be a little late today. I'll still make it, though," she added quickly.

"Fair enough." He paused, watching her carefully. "Are you certain you're all right? You _have_ been looking somewhat under the weather today."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just a headache. Sleepy. High school. You know how it is." When he still looked doubtful, she nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Hey, I'll be there, I promise."

Apparently satisfied, Eddward nodded. "Then I will see you this evening." He turned away, about to leave. "Do try not to exert yourself, Marie."

Marie smiled in spite of herself. He could get so concerned and anxious sometimes, and often over nothing. "I'm fine, Double Dee. I'll see you."

She loved Nazz and liked Kevin, and she didn't like Eddward's behavior toward them. But when he smiled like that, it was hard to stay mad at him.

* * *

She had not felt this legitimately terrible in a very, very long time. In fact, Marie wasn't altogether certain that she ever had. Her bedroom was sweltering and stuffy, and the words and letters before her, both the typed ones in her textbook and the ones she had written herself on binder paper, were blurring and running together. She wondered if something in her sandwich at lunch had gone bad, because she was also feeling significantly more nauseous than she should have.

_Crap, now is not the time for food poisoning_, she thought, irritated. _You have to leave in less than ten minutes and be there for your best friend. _Then_ you can come home and puke up your dinner to your heart's content. It'll even be the weekend, so ten to one you won't even have to miss school._

Grumbling to herself, she got up from her chair and almost immediately listed to the side and fell over. She managed to stagger back into something resembling balance, with some assistance from her chair, before stumbling to the kitchen for a drink. A quiet groan escaped her as she watched water cascade into the glass. The kitchen was even more unbearably hot than her bedroom, and she had to resist the urge to forgo drinking and just dump her would-be beverage over her head. She sipped, and found little relief, if any. Swallowing was a chore all on its own.

May was there, or Marie could have sworn she was. Someone was talking to her, anyway, asking some inane question about why she looked so godawful. Marie turned around, about to tell her sister to piss off until the room stopped spinning, but abruptly turned back and leaned over the empty sink to be violently sick.

Almost immediately there were hands steadying her, brushing her hair back from her face to keep it out of the puke. The heaving eased after a few moments, leaving her coughing and swaying dizzily. The hands left her head to hold her up by the shoulders.

"Christ, you were moaning about a headache this morning and you've been pale all day," May was grumbling. One hand went from her shoulder to her forehead briefly. "Come on, you're burning up. Bed, now."

"Where's my phone?" Her own voice sounded strangely far away.

"You can bitch about this on Twitter when you aren't falling over like an alcoholic," May said dryly. "Hashtag flu season. Now come on."

"Need my phone," Marie insisted, though the reason why was beginning to slip her mind.

"You need bed rest and a bucket. You _might_ need some sick days if this lasts past the weekend."


	2. Imprudence

Surely she would be arriving soon.

She had promised, after all – and she had warned of her impending tardiness. She was cutting it close, but there was still time. Barely, but it existed. Besides, he was otherwise completely ready, both physically and mentally; he was appropriately dressed, his cap was in place, and his goggles rested on his forehead. All that was left to do was wait for Marie's arrival, hand his dogtags off to her, and do what he did best – win. But first, she had to be physically present. She had promised.

The sudden appearance of a certain bespectacled senior in a green sweater was a welcome distraction. To the swimmer's mild and distracted amusement, said distraction actually noticed Eddward's presence early on and made an honest attempt to appear less conspicuous as he passed. Eddward smirked, waiting until he was walking past to address him.

"Running a bit late, are we, Pumpkin?"

His classmate kept walking, admirably resisting what must have been a tempting urge to turn his head or respond. Trying to pretend Eddward wasn't talking to him, apparently. But still, there was the curling of fists, the clenching of the jaw, the turn of his head and the angry furrowing of his brow. Eddward was a stickler for details, after all. And schadenfreude was nothing if not cathartic. It calmed his nerves, if only a little, which made his returning anxiety concerning Marie's attendance somewhat more bearable.

He had little choice but to trust her. If he could not trust Marie Kanker, then there was no one that he could.

So when his coach passed by for the third time with an impatient look in his direction, with no sign that Marie would be arriving – not even a single word from her – Eddward's heart sank.

He was confused; she _always_ came. Eddward took comfort in routine, in consistency, and Marie's presence at his meets had always been a constant. He depended upon her attendance. Why wasn't she coming? Had something happened to her? She must have a good reason. But if that was the case, then why hadn't she alerted him?

With one last surveying look at the hallways around him, Eddward turned and hurried back into the locker room. Ideally, he would have liked to find Jimmy in the crowd and leave the tags with him, but he had left it too long in waiting for Marie. He would simply have to store them here, and hope for the best. As much as he hated to leave things up to any level of chance, he was left with little choice at this point.

He could leave them in the coach's office, but the drawers were locked and the man had not looked like he was in the mood to waste more time unlocking them. The desk surface was hardly a possibility; it was far too exposed, with little cover to be found next to the cup of pencils and the oft-present roll of duct tape, whatever that was for –

Duct tape.

He was grasping at straws at this point, but the clock was ticking and he was quickly running out of options. Darting into the office, he grabbed the roll of tape and hurried back to his locker. He could hear his fellow swimmers calling for him to hurry up as he opened it, carefully arranged the tags underneath his neat bag of folded clothes, and shut and locked it again. Then, with a grimace at the thought of having to clean the residue off later, he taped over the edges of the locker door.

Theft was a crime of opportunity and convenience, after all. Thieves tended to be lazy, and any difficulty would have to be discouraging.

…Right?

Oh, who was he kidding, this was a psychological reassurance at _best_.

With dread hanging heavily in his mind, Eddward replaced the roll of duct tape and sprinted out to join his teammates by the pool.

* * *

The bleachers around the pool were packed fully enough to make sardine cans look spacious, as usual. Advocates, friends, and family of the visiting swimmers were lost among the enthusiastic Peach Creek supporters, but in the echoing, enthusiastic clamor, all cheers sounded the same. The girl sitting in front of Kevin nearly punched him in the face when she threw her arms upward jubilantly, and would have done so if he hadn't flinched back just in time. As it happened, she still swiped the brim of his hat and knocked it askew. Apparently not noticing, she continued her exultations without even turning her head.

"You okay?" Nazz asked, glaring at the back of the girl's head. Even though she was sitting right next to him, her voice was nearly lost in the din.

"Fine," Kevin replied loudly. Readjusting his baseball cap, he watched as the teams of swimmers gathered around the pool. "Looks like they're about to start. Guess Marie's not coming, then?"

Nazz glanced ruefully at the empty seat she had been saving. "Guess not. I wonder why? Oh… right, she looked pretty sick, didn't she?" She bit her lip worriedly. "Hope she's okay."

"She never misses these things," Kevin remarked thoughtfully. "She _is_ Eddward's best friend, after all. And isn't she like, the keeper of the sacred dog tags or something?"

"Yeah. Apparently Eddward doesn't like to risk getting them rusty, so he has Marie hang onto them. Dunno why he can't just stick them in his locker like a normal human being." Nazz grinned slightly, and looked meaningfully at the familiar black-capped figure climbing up to the edge of the diving board. "Guess he'll have to now, huh?"

Kevin made a noncommittal noise in response. The swimmers were lined up already, perched and ready on the diving boards. The cheering had died down as the spectators waited on bated breath.

At the signal, they simultaneously dove and – whoa.

Kevin had noticed, during what swim meets he had attended so far, that there wasn't much of a contest for first place. Swimmers competed for second and third place; that was where the suspense and uncertainty lay. First place was for Eddward Rockwell and Eddward Rockwell only. It was such a recurrent, unchanging fact that it was almost a surprise that they bothered announcing it anymore. One of the unspoken rules of any of these competitions involving Peach Creek High was, "You cannot beat Eddward Rockwell in a swim meet. He is simply the best there is." So it was never unusual for Eddward to start out ahead and only gain more and more distance until the event was over.

But this was just ridiculous.

Nazz nudged him and leaned in close when he cocked his head toward her. "He's gonna tire himself out," she muttered in his ear.

"I dunno, he looks like he's just… rushing or something," Kevin answered. "Like he's got somewhere to be and he wants to get this over with."

"Well, he's only human," Nazz insisted skeptically. "I mean you could hardly tell by talking to him, but it's true. If he's not careful, he'll run out of steam before he's done, and then where will his sterling reputation be?"

Kevin shrugged and went back to watching Eddward shoot through the water. It was like watching a gas-powered bull shark heading straight for a feeding frenzy, and he had to wonder what this was doing to the other teams' egos.

_What's your hurry?_ He wondered absently.

* * *

Not every student on the campus of Peach Creek High that evening was attending the swim meet.

The locker room was wide open, for anyone who needed a restroom close by. The entrance was located in the hallway outside of the pool area, an oversight in the layout of the building, but nonetheless a blessing for the three boys that stood outside and made absolutely sure that they were alone.

"Quit worrying," one of them, ostensibly the ringleader, snapped in a low voice. "Everyone's busy watching the meet, so no one's gonna see."

"Got the key?" another asked.

"Duh. Come on, let's do this shit."

"This takes balls," the third muttered. He was far from wrong; pranking the swim team, the school's top athletic team, would not be without consequences if they were caught.

Of course, when one takes great pains to acquire the coach's key to the Master locks, dismissing such a golden opportunity is simply out of the question. Besides, if all went well, they would not be caught.

It took a bit longer than they had expected, since they had only one key amongst the three of them. Switching the swimmers' belongings took a while when one had to run the key back and forth and through all the rows of lockers. On top of that, all three kept a wary ear cocked in case their tricks were interrupted.

"Think we should just switch the locks?"

"Nah, there's no point if we're just gonna leave the key when we're done. It'll just make it too obvious. …Ah, what the hell, toss me the one you got. Here, catch!"

One of the locks missed its target and clattered loudly to the floor, followed by muttered cursing. In the meantime, the third member of the party took the key to the lockers closer to the office at the back of the room.

"Hey, guys! Check this out!" At his hushed but eager call, the other two came running. "What do you guys think?"

The locker before them, which had so captured their teammate's interest, had been locked and duct-taped shut. The three of them exchanged keen glances.

"Dude. Open that shit up."


	3. The Cost

The "sterling reputation" for which Nazz had expressed her dubious concern remained intact, if it didn't come away even more polished than before. When in the water, Eddward was quick and methodical; out of the water, he paced restlessly like an impatient predator. In spite of himself, Kevin found the whole display strangely intriguing, and despite his attempts to focus on other teams, or at least other Peach Creek swimmers, Eddward continually drew his attention. To say the least, he was a distraction from almost everything else. Kevin held out for most of the events, but as minutes and events dragged on, a small oversight began to make itself known. With a grimace, he glanced to the equally packed seats on either side of him. He sat uncomfortably, fidgeted a bit, tapped his foot, and finally sighed and stood up.

"Bathroom," he assured Nazz when he caught sight of her look of alarm. "I'll be right back."

The path to his left was shorter, and thus the lesser of two evils. With many profuse apologies, and as few collisions as he could manage, he laboriously stumbled over countless feet before he reached the stairs. He breathed a sigh of relief, only to scowl when he noted all the people who, finding a lack of vacancies on the actual bleachers, had settled for seating themselves on the steps. Maneuvering them was a complicated dance in which one wrong move would send him tumbling ass over teakettle to the bottom, and the only thing more embarrassing than that would be standing up and loudly asking the swim captain out on a coffee date or something.

Kevin shuddered.

Once he was safely at the bottom, he had little room to think about how he would get back up to his seat. Damn it, he really should not have waited so long. Keeping his head down, as if that would help him remain undetected, he walked quickly out of the pool area before taking off in the direction of the nearest restroom.

Well, the second nearest, anyhow. Technically, the nearest one was in the locker room, but there was no way he was going to set foot in there. As he hurried by the open door, he could hear movement inside, and darted past to the next available restroom.

He emerged momentarily, wondering if he had missed anything exciting. He doubted it, however; the only meaningful event he could have missed would be a failure on Eddward's part, and he was close enough that he would have heard the dismayed wailing. As he approached the locker room again, he hoped absently that whoever had been inside had already left. To his disappointment, and immediate alarm, he could hear them emerging as he passed.

On instinct, Kevin broke into a run – light-footed, holding his breath – until he reached relative safety around the nearest corner. Behind him, multiple sets of footsteps told him that he had just barely managed to escape their notice.

"Come on, hurry up before someone sees!"

The hushed warning aroused just enough curiosity that Kevin ducked around the corner and cautiously peeked out.

"Dude, this is awesome."

"You're crazy, man. We're gonna get caught!"

"So what? Someone was bound to prank that asshole sometime."

Three boys, each of them easily over six feet, had emerged from the swim team's locker room. None of them, from what he could tell, were swimmers themselves; in fact, he thought he recognized two of them from the track team. One of them was grinning manically; the other two seemed to be various levels of nervous and triumphant. Mystified, he looked at the first again. The glint of something small and metallic drew his gaze to the jock's clenched fist, and he squinted to see what it was.

His eyes flew open in shock.

The trio set off together, thankfully in the direction that led away from where he stood frozen. Their voices, though hushed, reached him nonetheless.

"Relax, we'll just stash them somewhere he won't look for 'em!"

"What, _our_ locker room?"

"Why not? It's not like he's gonna go snooping around in there."

"Yeah, we'll just stick 'em in your locker and–"

"Fuck no! If someone does find them, like hell am I implicating myself! We'll find a place, now shut up!"

Their voices faded, and Kevin remained standing there, watching their retreating backs until they were no longer in view.

Wow.

_Wow_.

What had he just witnessed?

Kevin would have been one of the first to agree that if anyone needed to get pranked or inconvenienced in any way, it was Eddward Rockwell, but… well, sneaking into the swim team's locker room and stealing his things wasn't really a creative prank so much as technically a felony. Not very imaginative, just… kind of mean-spirited, really. On the other hand, _nobody_ touched the tags – unspoken Peach Creek High law right there – and these three track athletes had just flipped the metaphorical bird to impending danger. So all in all, he wasn't quite sure whether to be horrified or privately impressed.

It then occurred to Kevin that the meet would be ending soon, and considering what Eddward was sure to find – or not find – when he returned to the locker room, it would be in his best interests to be nowhere near it by that point.

Yeah… it would probably be better not to touch this one. It would be in his very best interests to give it a wide and generous berth. This was between jocks, and in those kind of issues, bystanders tended to get caught up in the blaze. Better to sit this one out. Preferably in a comfortable recliner on the other side of the country, but for now he could settle for his seat on the bleachers next to Nazz.

* * *

"Yo, Edd?"

The very sound of Johnny's voice was a nuisance, especially when his alleged friend was raising it to an unnecessary volume. The noise level in the locker room was restrained at best, and to hear Johnny shout to him, one would think he was howling over the noise of a house party.

Eddward sighed as he entered the main area of the locker room. "What is it?" His companion had gone ahead of him and, judging by the direction of his voice, was apparently already at their neighboring lockers. A trembling sort of relief settled over him as he absorbed the atmosphere of the room. After spending the entire meet in a constant state of agitation, alleviation was within reach once more. Admittedly, it would be something of a botheration to peel duct tape from around his locker, but he could live with that. It had been more of a psychological comfort than anything else; without it, he doubted he would have managed to swim in a straight line.

"Why's there duct tape on your locker?" Eddward's brow furrowed as Johnny's voice grated further in his ears.

"Extra precautions," he replied as he rounded the corner.

"Uhh… it might not have worked, man."

The annoyance transformed instantly into creeping dread, with all the abruptness of a flipped light switch. Without breaking stride, or even breaking into a run, Eddward reached Johnny's side in a matter of moments.

His locker was shut, the combination lock was intact just the way he had left it. The duct tape, however, had been sliced through all around the door, as if with a key or a pocketknife. The urge to fly into a rage and shout and curse sprang up within him, only to vanish just as suddenly; at this point, so accustomed was he to burying such emotional impulses that they could bury themselves half the time. Around him, a smattering of indignant voices rose up from his fellow swimmers.

"Where the hell is my shirt? I swear to God, if one of you was a fu– a creeper and stole my shirt, I'm gonna–"

"Guys, I can't open my lock. What gives?"

"Okay, who drew a dick on my bag? If this is permanent, somebody's gonna die."

"Hey George, is it just your shirt that's missing? Because I found pants in my locker, and they aren't mine."

"I found underwear in mine. Jake, are these yours?"

"Those are _my_ pants! What the hell, man?"

"I didn't do it, I swear!"

"Hey, my combination's not working, either. Switch with me, maybe we have the wrong locks."

"Did you guys know Jake writes his name in his underwear? That's so cute."

"Oh for fu – God's sake, Todd, stop staring at my – just give those back."

"George, what the hell is your shirt doing in my locker?"

With icy calmness, Eddward rotated the dial of his lock, until it sprang open at his tug. Placing the lock to the side, he opened the door.

His fresh set of clothes was still folded in its bag, but had clearly been disturbed. There was a sour, almost acidic taste in his mouth, and he denied the infinitesimal tremble of his hand as he shifted the bag to the side.

Beneath his neatly folded garments, the dusted surface of the shelf was as bare as he had hoped against hope that it wouldn't be. He lifted the bag out entirely, and his locker yawned emptily before him.

"Oh, dear."

His fingers curled, and his entire hand clenched around the bag. Beside him, Johnny was staring at him questioningly, perhaps asking him what was amiss. but Eddward did not hear him.

* * *

It was dark by the time Eddward parked his car in his driveway, trudged up the walk to his front door, and let himself into an empty house. In the back of his mind he noted the familiar growl of a dirtbike pulling up across the street, but all trace thoughts of his classmates, his neighbors, and anything else promptly vanished the moment he closed the front door behind him and locked it. Wordlessly (there was never anyone to talk to anyway) he toed off his boots and made his way mechanically through the house. Time passed in a blur, and he navigated the hallway as if in a dream until he reached his room, shut the door, and fastened all the locks. Against what, he wasn't altogether certain.

Somehow he found his way to his bed, and in the next moment he was sprawling, staring up at the ceiling without actually seeing it. His hand came to rest on his chest, where his dog tags should have been.

He had felt something akin to this numerous times before, perched on the edge of a diving board with nothing but a narrow lane of water before him, awaiting the signal on bated breath. There was that familiar but no longer pleasant ache somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, that strange hybrid of anticipation and dread, though now it was joined by something very close to fear. It was the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, toes curled over the corner of the precipice, staring down and simply wondering whether or not a badly-timed gust of wind would send him hurtling over the edge.

It was vaguely possible, he thought, that he had deceived himself about where he had left his tags. Perhaps he had left them in his locker in the hallway, rather than the one in the pool complex's locker room. Perhaps someone, mistaking them for lost, had picked them up – the thought made him sick to his stomach – and placed them in the lost and found, or the office, which had been locked. Come Monday, he could check. He could check _everywhere_. Both of his lockers, all of his classrooms, every single area he had ever set foot in – he would _ransack_ the locker room, if he had to.

They were not simply gone, he reminded himself. They were still at the school, that much he knew. Somewhere, they simply _existed_, and as long as that was true, he would find them.

The possibility that someone had intentionally walked off with them was not lost on him, either, though the mere thought of it brought the taste of bile to his throat. If that was true, if someone had taken them – if someone with the _sheer nerve_ had taken them – he would…

He almost frightened himself, with the vague half-knowledge of what he would do to anyone who had stolen them.

The thought of waiting the entire weekend for Monday to arrive was agonizing on its own, and he turned on his side as if he could relieve the persistent ache that way. It helped little.

Except… perhaps he would not have to wait that long. Hadn't he heard someone mention a club meeting on Saturday? Who was it…. which club…? Oh, of course, it had been Marie's friend, hadn't it? Yes, Nazz, from the Quiz Bowl team. There might possibly be other teams meeting, if not some tutoring sessions as well; it seemed unlikely that the faculty would bother having the school open for the sake of one small club meeting.

He grimaced to himself, before finally heaving himself to his feet so that he could go and shower the last of the chlorine from his hair and skin. He had no interest whatsoever in Quiz Bowl, or in the students involved, and would rather have avoided dealing with any of them. Regardless, scheduled club meetings meant unlocked hallways, and a chance to check his locker. If he did not find them tomorrow, then he would still have to put off his thorough search until Monday, but this plan was preferable to an agonizing, unbroken wait.


	4. Only Human

Kevin almost fell off his bike, which would have been unfortunate. Not because he was speeding down the road rapidly enough for it to be dangerous, but because he had already stopped in the school parking lot and was in the process of getting off. Faceplanting on the asphalt when the bike was parked, the kickstand was down, and he was halfway through dismounting would have been a pretty poor start to a Saturday. No one would have witnessed it, no one would have known, but _he_ would have known.

He was distracted, and it was frustrating to be distracted when he had no idea why. Thank God for the weekend Quiz Bowl meeting, because it gave him something else to think about and –

It would have been difficult enough to miss the car parked in the middle of the lot simply because it was one of the few that was actually present. When it just so happened to be the car that Kevin saw almost every time he stepped out of the house and his line of vision passed over the driveway on the other side of the street… well. It certainly caught his attention, enough that he spent almost a full minute simply staring at it, as if it would sit up and take questions if he waited long enough.

What was Eddward's car doing in the school parking lot on the Saturday after a swim meet, on the side of the campus farthest from the pool, no less?

Despite his attempts to set the question aside, he still burned with persistent curiosity as he made his way to the day's Quiz Bowl practice. As he approached the front entrance to the main building, the events of the previous evening returned to him. The only reason why he ended up ignoring the urge to smack his own forward was that his hand was already occupied with opening the door.

Eddward didn't have his dogtags. Of _course_ he would know about the Quiz Bowl meeting (and the fact that it meant unlocked doors and open hallways) because Mr. Genius Swim Captain knew everything. From what Kevin had seen, it was no surprise whatsoever that he would treasure the things enough to take time out of his weekend to look for them.

The doors shut noisily behind him, and he paused warily. He dreaded running into Eddward on the best of days, but now, when he was probably Nancy-Drewing his way around the hallways looking for those tags? Kevin had seen him slam a guy into the locker once for calling them gay; if he had any inkling that they were stolen and not just misplaced, then he was probably on a warpath by now. And he probably did know that, because Eddward was sufficiently obsessive about them for it to be impossible to lose them any other way, and because Mr. Genius Swim Captain knew everything.

And he might just figure out that Kevin knew something about them, too.

_Well, crap._ Kevin checked his watch; he had arrived with fifteen minutes to spare. Switching his bag to his other shoulder, he started off down the hallway. The Quiz Bowl team would be meeting in the computer lab classroom not far from where he was, and he could probably make it early enough to beat most of the others, but late enough to avoid having to wait for other people to arrive. In other words, he wouldn't have to hang around in the hallway by himself.

Sure enough, footsteps up ahead alerted him to the presence of another student. There was someone around the corner, either a fellow Quiz Bowl member or someone attending the Saturday morning tutoring session, or–

Wasn't that the hallway where Eddward's locker was?

He paused at the corner, and cautiously peeked out to see.

His heart sank. Eddward was indeed there, rummaging through his open locker. At least, he was as close to rummaging as he would ever come, Kevin thought. Everything Eddward did was freakishly neat and methodical, even when he was searching for something he valued. It was like watching a real-life Vulcan.

Or it would be, if it weren't for the look on Eddward's face as he was going about it.

Kevin had expected anger, or the subtle signs of restrained rage. At the very least, he expected the grim, sullen expression that seemed to be Eddward's standard. So the utter lack of surliness came as a genuine surprise to Kevin, who had never before seen his classmate look so honestly upset.

"Distressed" was not normally a word he associated with Eddward, but there was no other way to describe what he looked like at the moment. That and…

Sad? Lost? …_Afraid?_

That was just _weird_ and if he didn't get a move on he would be late. On an impulse, he stepped out from hiding, intending to pass by the hallway intersection with the pretense of failing to notice Eddward's presence. He had only taken a few steps when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddward look up. He froze, almost involuntarily, and looked back.

There was a split second in which he made eye contact before the troubled look had left Eddward's face. Once it did so, and was replaced by the familiar surliness, Kevin was galvanized into action once more. He turned his head away again and all but fled at a run.

As he made his way to the sanctuary of his Quiz Bowl meeting, he glanced over his shoulder several times to make sure that Eddward was not following him. He had to wonder if he would have reacted that way with a clear conscience, without the knowledge of where Eddward's tags had gone. If not, he had to wonder, then, if Eddward had noticed as well.

It wasn't until he had reached the classroom that he realized that, for the first time, Eddward had simply watched him pass by – practically _flee_ – without saying a word.

* * *

It ended up being a shorter practice than anticipated, especially when two members failed to appear and Nazz had to leave early for a violin lesson. The former fact was especially laughable since Nat, who wasn't even a member, showed up nonetheless. ("Not like I have anything better to do, bro. Besides, do you know how many crosswords I've finished since I started watching you guys?") Kevin walked with his two friends as they headed to the parking lot, where his bike was parked and Nazz's mother was supposed to pick her up.

"Well, at least we know for sure that you're our guy when it comes to math and physics," Nazz remarked with a slight grin.

"Nice to know I'm needed."

She blinked at him, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You look like you've been distracted, though. You were pretty quiet on the history questions. Something wrong?"

"I just suck at history."

Nat gave him an elbow nudge that sent him sidestepping for balance. "Kevin, come on. Is something on your mind?"

He heaved a sigh. "It's not that important, it's just… did you guys see Eddward wandering around when you got here?"

Nazz stood up a bit straighter. "Uh, yeah, actually, I saw him going around testing some of the classroom doors. I dunno what the hell he's doing here on a Saturday. Is that what's bugging you? Because if it is, just ignore him and let him do whatever the hell." She paused, as if something had occurred to her. "Unless he talked to you or – did he give you any trouble before the meeting?" It was quite amazing to see her switch from casual conversation to ire, like watching a half-grown owlet puff up to twice its size at the sight of danger. "Oh my God, if he was bugging you, I swear to God I'll–"

"He wasn't, he wasn't," Kevin assured her, with a quick glance around to make sure no one else was around. "He didn't say anything to me, he just sort of… I dunno, _looked_ at me and then I left."

"Oh." She deflated slightly. "Okay, good. Wait, he just let you pass by without even a snide remark?"

"Pretty much."

"Then what's got you worried?" Nat demanded. "You really don't have to let him get to you like that, you know."

"I know what he's doing here," Kevin told them bluntly. He stopped speaking, wondering if his friends would let him leave it at that, but he could feel their eyes on him.

"The suspense is killing me," Nat said at length, his tone dry. "Care to share with the class?"

Feeling reluctant, Kevin nonetheless related to them what he had seen the previous day. "And anyway, I'm hoping to God he doesn't find out I know where they are because he's gonna wonder _why_ I know and might come to the conclusion that I took them, and on top of that he's acting weird about it and it's starting to freak me out," he finished.

"Jesus, Kevin," Nat muttered. "Way to stay out of the way of the knuckle-dragging idiots."

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, okay?"

"You just _had_ to go to the swim meet."

"Be careful, Kevin," Nazz advised. She looked almost as worried as he felt. "Just keep out of it, and I'm sure they'll work it out on their own."

"It takes a special kind of crazy to steal something from Eddward, though," Nat remarked. "Or a special kind of _stupid_. You sure they weren't freshmen? 'Cause that's the only reason I can think of."

"Think it'd matter?" Kevin pointed out. "I mean, you've seen how he is with those things." He pushed open the door of the main entrance and darted forward to hold it for the other two.

"He's… paranoid," Nat said. "And that's putting it kindl – oh crap, shut up, guys."

Kevin followed his friend's gaze down the sidewalk past the entrance, and nearly swore out loud when he saw the very subject of their discussion heading in their direction. Instinctively he stepped closer to his friends, and all three moved on and very pointedly avoided looking at Eddward while making token attempts to resume conversation – with a different topic, of course. This was a common tactic of theirs; it helped to ignore the inevitable snide comment that he would impart, as he always did.

Eddward overtook them and walked on into the parking lot, with barely a cursory glance in their direction.

As he passed, Kevin's eyes flickered upward to his classmate's face. Eddward's head was turned away, so he only caught a quick glimpse, but it was there. It was subtle, a biting of the lip, a furrow of the brow that was not angry but troubled, but it was there. He had not imagined it.

Something stirred within him, a strange and unwelcome ache somewhere in the general area of his chest. He glanced down at himself, as if he could find the cause just by looking. Confused, and just a bit uncomfortable, he returned his attention to Eddward.

"Okay, you were right, the silence thing _is_ pretty weird," he heard Nat mutter, once Eddward was beyond hearing range. "It's something I'd like to get used to, though." Kevin was barely listening, just watching as Eddward dropped his keys twice before managing to unlock his car.

* * *

Eddward arrived to school early Monday morning, before the start of zero period, just barely beating the students that came for morning chemistry tutoring. The school was open when he pulled into the parking lot, but if anyone of consequence had arrived, they were either in classrooms or too sleepy to notice him.

Perfect.

Not that he ever had to worry about traversing the hallways on his own. Still, it would be nice to revisit the areas that he had already searched a second time – it never hurt to be thorough – before the crowds of dull-eyed, slack-jawed students arrived. And whats-his-name. Pumpkin. The name escaped him sometimes.

If he could sort all this out without running into the little cretin again, then that would be ideal. Eddward was loathe to allow anyone whose name wasn't Marie or Jimmy to see him rattled, and the possibility that _he_ of all people might have seen it had hung persistently over his head since Saturday. The possibility that (_Kevin_, that was his name) might _mention_ it to someone was beyond dreadful. Especially if that someone was Rolf. Or the teal-haired imbecile, which did _not_ bear thinking about.

Besides, any time spent thinking about Kevin for any reason, worry or otherwise, was utterly wasted, especially when he could spend it checking to see if his advanced placement calculus class unlocked yet.

* * *

Kevin had often noticed his own heightened nervousness during the school's morning hours between his arrival and his first chance to touch bases with his friends. Walking alone in the crowded hallways of Peach Creek High often felt too much like wandering through a zombie apocalypse without one's crew of survivors; one wrong move and he'd get eaten alive.

"Hey, loser! Think your mom'll knit _me_ a sweater like that?" That was Jimmy's voice, and to his embarrassment he started visibly before glancing over his shoulder.

Luck was with him twofold; Jimmy was moving on, turning his attention to his phone (and probably a text message from Sarah), and he was alone. Namely, Eddward was absent from his side. Kevin hadn't forgotten the previous Friday, or Saturday for that matter, though not for a lack of trying. He fervently hoped that the jocks would sort out the whole dogtag mess, and quickly, because surviving high school was hard enough without his nerves fraying at the edges over something that should not have concerned him at all. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he dreaded the thought of so much as looking at Eddward, because hell if the swimmer wasn't unfairly skilled at reading people.

Also, Eddward's behavior had yet to stop unsettling him.

Speak of the devil and the devil will appear; up ahead, the man himself rounded the corner and made his way toward Kevin at a hurried pace. Kevin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance, and something close to panic momentarily took over his actions. He purposely turned his face away from Eddward, dodged to the side to give the swim captain a wide and generous berth, and turned down the first hallway he could. Better to waste a few moments on the way to his locker than to risk confrontation and possible discovery.

He should not have felt this guilty, he told himself, to no avail; it wasn't like _he_ had been dumb enough to touch Eddward's things. He was neutral. He was uninvolved. Like Switzerland.

He was relieved when Eddward ignored him and continued on his way, and Kevin chanced one more quick glance at him as he hurried past. Eddward barely turned his head – that was a relief, but it still felt _wrong_, because Eddward almost always took any chance he could to give Kevin a hard time, and he never seemed to miss a single thing around him – but Kevin could see the remnants of that strange look from Saturday.

Well. Strange on Eddward, anyway. And even when Kevin lowered his eyes, he caught the briefest glimpse of clenched fists and stark-white knuckles.

There was one more thing, too, Kevin thought absently as he returned to a more-or-less straight route to his locker. Eddward's jacket had been zipped up to his throat.

The ache was back, throbbing painfully in his chest, and still he stubbornly refused to identify it. Identifying it would mean acknowledging it, and acknowledging it bore the hazard of acting upon it. And he would _not _act on it, he informed himself. It was not worth the risk – it would _never_ be worth the risk.

Still… maybe he could just…

No.

* * *

If he did not know better, Eddward thought absently, he could have sworn that the little cretin seemed more eager than usual to avoid him. This could either be a boon or… something more suspicious.

And, of course, he had just spent ten seconds of his life that he would never get back, thinking about what's-his-name.

Drat it all.

It mattered little. What mattered was that he had checked and double-checked most of the possible places that he may have left them, and come break period, he would be turning the swim team's locker room inside out, and hoping against hope that he would find them there.

Quite simply, there was no other place that they could be.


	5. Human Beings Are Like That

Eddward stood alone in the locker room, silent and motionless, deaf and blind to everything that went on outside. He had lost track of how much time he had spent standing and staring impassively into the open locker. His hand rested on the shelf surface, recently cleaned, dusted, and most of all, empty.

He should not have hoped for anything different; his own locker at the back of the room had been empty the first time he checked, as well as the last time and all the times in between. He had gone through the entire space, including the restroom and the lockers that did not belong to him, like the one before him now, with a figurative fine-toothed comb. He had nothing to show for it but hands that were damp from washing away the grime of the place.

His other hand rested against his chest, over the empty spot where a pair of dogtags should have hung.

Johnny had offered to help him look. Eddward had snapped at him in return. Jimmy had known better than to ask at all. The only human being from whom he would have accepted such help was Marie, and if Marie had been present, this would never have happened.

_No, do not think that way. It is useless and petty. This was not her fault._

_Because it was yours_.

The hand left his chest, and it was a fist by the time it crashed forcefully into the locker to the side.

For the first time in quite a long while, he felt the urge to yell, to curse, to scream some profane word and let it echo in the empty room. He kept his mouth shut and reined it in, until the pressure built up within him and his chest ached even more than the fist still pressed against the locker's unyielding exterior. His hand left the locker shelf, and he slammed the door shut. The sound ricocheted like a bullet.

He leaned his weight forward, until his forehead rested against the cold metal.. His teeth clenched, and he tilted his head back just to knock it into the hard surface again.

They were gone. He had been careless, and he had lost them. He felt his jaw creak with tension, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

They were gone, they were gone, they were _gone_ and it was his fault. Someone had taken them, that much was clear, but he had been so _careless_ that it was all his fault, and even if he did find the one responsible and mete out the proper retribution (which he would, of _course _he would, and he might have pitied the culprit if he did find them, if not for the fact that _he despised them and wished them every ill he could imagine_) he would always know that he really had himself to blame.

His eyes burned. This was why he had warned off his companions. If they were to see this, or hear this – if _anyone_ were to bear witness – he would...

He would not know what to do.

Dropping his hand to his side, he slowly turned around and lowered himself to sit on the bench. He slid back, drew up his knees to his chest, and leaned back against the lockers. One arm went around his knees, hugging them to his chest. His other hand went to his face, hiding it even though no one was there.

The breath he drew in was noisy, shaky. His throat ached against it, and it caught convulsively.

They were gone.

A choked sob tore itself from his throat, barely muffled by the hand in front of his mouth. He slipped his fingers upward in a useless attempt to stem the tears.

They were _gone_.

His voice was raspy and quiet as the word slipped out. "_Please_." He was not sure who he was addressing.

* * *

To see Johnny and Jimmy striding through the hallways minus their ever-present genius friend was a rarity. Kevin had ample reason to wonder where said genius was, considering that, odd behavior or no, he usually bore the brunt of Eddward's wrath when the latter needed an outlet for boredom or stress, or whatever human emotions he was apparently capable of. This was why Kevin found himself using his break period to make his way to the locker rooms by the pool; if Eddward was there, then Kevin could find out what he was doing with his time, and confirm that he was still searching and thus not up to anything devious. Though, to be a bit more honest, Kevin doubted that he was, and what really drew him to seek out Eddward was nothing short of morbid curiosity. All the frankly bizarre behavior that he had been witnessing from afar over the weekend... it was unsettling. And it made Kevin wonder just how far it would go. Besides, it had thrown him for a loop and left him uncertain and unsure of himself, and the sooner that was resolved, the better.

He certainly was not on his way because he was getting worried. That would be stupid.

As he neared the pool, and with it the locker rooms, he became uncomfortably aware of how fast he was walking and how loud his footfalls sounded, especially in the empty building. Swallowing his nervousness, and conscious of the looming sense of do-not-belong, he hesitated. He was utterly alone, and hoped with all his might that he would stay that way. After taking a moment to gather his nerves again, he continued.

Up ahead, the door to the locker room stood open, almost mockingly inviting, and he nearly lost his nerve again and left. He wasn't entirely certain that Eddward was in there at all, and if he was, that was hardly better than the possibility of wasting time. Kevin steeled himself, and tried not to breathe too loudly as he crept up to the open doorway.

From inside, he heard a loud, metallic thud, as if someone had thrown something at the lockers. He froze for a moment, swallowed nervously again, and stepped inside. The wall blocked the view from the entrance to the benches and lockers inside, which was a relief, as it kept him from being seen by whoever was in there. Creeping as silently as he could, he made his way along the wall until he reached the corner. A locker door slammed, and he jumped. For a moment he froze, listening, until he heard nothing to indicate that he had given himself away. His heart was in his throat as he stopped, pressed himself against the wall, and leaned out inch by inch to see inside.

It was Eddward, he noted with neither surprise nor relief at being right. He was leaning forward, fist and forehead pressed against the lockers, and judging by the rising and falling of his shoulders, he was breathing hard. Probably rage, Kevin thought tensely; after all, he wouldn't have found them here, would he? Rage was what Kevin had expected, had feared; subdued, quiet rage. In a person like Eddward, rage like that could be dangerous. Still, it was... expected. There was nothing unsettling or strange about it. It was almost a relief, really.

Eddward began to turn around, and Kevin pulled back behind the wall again, taking light, shallow breaths. He realized that he really ought to leave, but the lack of approaching footsteps, or any footsteps at all, or any sign that Eddward had moved, piqued his curiosity. He remained where he was.

He heard the scrape and rustle of clothing, quiet movements, and wondered what Eddward was doing, but after seeing him about to turn around he could not bring himself to look again. He stood as close to the edge of the wall as he could force himself, and listened.

Eddward drew in a high, shaky breath that caught on the way, and the strange sense that was close to relief promptly vanished. The hairs on the back of Kevin's neck stood on end, and the prickling sensation ran all the way down his spine.

The next noise to reach him was utterly identifiable, unmistakeable. He had heard it before, had _made _it before, but now, in that voice, it was wrong, so very, very wrong. It went against everything he had ever thought, everything that he had taken to be real and possible and normal.

That was a sob. Followed by another, subdued and tight as if held back and purposely muffled. Then something seemed to break, and there in the locker room, hidden from Kevin's view by a tiled wall, Eddward Rockwell broke down in tears.

Kevin was frozen, wide-eyed, and safe for the moment even if the latter meant far less when he truly and honestly had no idea what he was supposed to do.

He could stay there, unmoving, until someone passed by and spotted him or Eddward eventually discovered him and... who even _knew _what might happen then? He could make himself known, tell his distressed classmate what he knew, and... again, who even knew how Eddward would react? This was... this was more than figuring him out, or finding a weakness, a way to take him down a few pegs.

He was down quite a few pegs already, and Kevin had had nothing to do with it.

"_Please_."

For one wild moment, Kevin thought that he was being addressed. It passed quickly, but what remained was that tiny, barely noticeable ache, somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. He bit his lip, shook his head, and demanded that it stop, leave, go away, but it persisted. With every rasping sob that reached his ears, it throbbed, demanding attention, refusing to be ignored or shut out.

Kevin gathered up whatever was left of his courage, and peeked out again.

Eddward had barely moved from the spot, having simply turned around, lowered himself to the bench, and drawn himself into a tight ball. One arm embraced his knees. The other was drawn in, his hand over his eyes as if hiding his tears from the world, even though he couldn't have known there was anyone to hide them from.

It was useless, in any case. Even from his hiding place, when Eddward moved to wipe one side of his face with the heel of his hand, Kevin could see the wet tracks of tears shining down the other.

This was not the scornful, smirking bully who had spent the past years harassing and tormenting Kevin for the sake of amusement, nor was it the aggressive, focused predator that only ever appeared when he was in the water. As Kevin watched Eddward, he realized that the first time, all he could see was a person. A classmate.

A seventeen-year-old boy.

Kevin's chest hurt. He tore his eyes from the sight, and returned to safety fully behind the wall. Desperately, he thought of Eddward's biting words, his cold, sardonic tone of voice, his inability to keep his damn hands to himself. He flung them against the pain in his chest as if he were tossing rocks at a brick wall, with just as much success.

He admitted defeat.

He could no longer deny it; he wanted Eddward to stop crying. He wanted him to stop looking so desperately upset. He wanted...

He wanted to help.

The bell rang, shattering his reverie and coming dangerously close to forcing a yelp of surprise from him. When the blaring tone extended for a few seconds, he took advantage of the noise to cover up the sound of his footsteps. He fled the locker room and dashed as far away from the pool area as he could before students began to filter into the hallways. Forced to slow his pace to avoid suspicion, he restricted himself to a rapid walking pace, eyes glued to the ground.

The sight and sound of Eddward alone and sobbing in the locker room would not be leaving him anytime soon. The hints and glimpses and vague impressions that he had collected after the swim meet and over the weekend were now a full, uncomfortable truth. He had known already that the dogtags were precious; Eddward had been making that much obvious for years. But... he had always done it with anger, and violence, by snapping like a junkyard dog anytime someone criticized them or reached for them.

Kevin had possessions that he would have cried over, had they ever been stolen from him. It had never once occurred to him that Eddward could, too.

It had never occurred to him that Eddward had the ability to cry at all.

Most of all, he never would have thought he would ever find himself... pitying him.

There was no other way to describe it.

His conscience emerged victorious. Mind made up, he found himself at the very problem, the very question that he had faced the moment Eddward's shaking sobs had first reached him.

What was he supposed to do now?


	6. What To Do

"Oh, here's an idea. How about you use your brain and stay the hell out of it?"

After all the confusion and incongruousness that Kevin had been contending with over the past few days, it was a comfort to know that at least Nat was consistent.

School had let out for the day, and after making absolutely sure that neither Eddward nor anyone likely to eavesdrop and pass it along to him was within hearing range, Kevin had confided in his friends about his intentions. Well, "intentions" was the wrong word... at this point it was really only a notion. In any case, the reactions he was receiving were more or less what he had expected.

Nazz shook her head, clearly perplexed. "Seriously, Kevin, what brought this on?"

"You know that conscience I have?" Kevin answered dryly. "It's starting to get to me." He had yet to tell them about what he had accidentally walked in on.

Beside him, Nat executed a flawless facepalm. "Oh dear God, no, Kevin, don't listen to your conscience. Those things are _evil_."

"I thought the point of a conscience was _not_ being evil," Kevin pointed out.

"Rolf believes this will only end in tears," Rolf said, clutching his pig as if for security. "Please let Rolf be mistaken in his thinking that Kevin will do something silly."

"I don't even know what I'm going to _do_ yet," Kevin protested. "I mean, just because I know where they are doesn't mean I can just waltz in and take them. I _know_ I have to be smart about this, because if I'm not, I don't actually accomplish anything!"

"Wait, wait, just–" Nat broke in. "Answer me this. Even if you do pull it off, even if you do find some way to–" He dropped the volume of his voice. "–to return the tags, so what? What are you hoping to accomplish at all?"

Kevin opened his mouth to reply, and hesitated for a moment. "Uh... integrity?"

"To be fair, integrity _is_ doing the right thing when no one's watching," Nazz admitted.

"But _why?_" Nat demanded. "Do you think he'll stop being a dick to you if you do something nice for him?"

"Not really," Kevin said with a shrug. "I mean, best case scenario, he never even finds out it was me."

Nat threw his hands upward. "Then what is even the point?"

"What part of 'my conscience is getting to me' don't you understand?"

"The part where you're planning on getting involved in jock pissing contests! Don't you get it, Kevin? If you do this, not only are you picking a side, but you're siding with _Eddward_."

"This–" _is more than just a pissing contest. Jocks don't cry over pissing contests._ Something held him back from explaining exactly what had made up his mind. There was something... private about it. Part of him still felt guilty that he had seen it at all, and he didn't feel right about telling everyone that he'd walked in on Eddward crying in the locker room. It felt so _cheap_ and _petty_, and... well. He had no desire to be either of those things. "Look, I'll figure something out, okay? I probably won't even have to do anything dumb to pull this off. I mean, like I said, it's not like I can just barge into a locker room I don't belong in and start ransacking the place. Because that's probably a suspension, and my conscience is _not_ worth that."

"Rolf is more worried about other suspensions," Rolf interrupted. "Such as suspension of Kevin, upside down, over the second floor railing."

"It's not gonna come to that," Kevin assured him. "If I do this right, he's not even gonna know I was invol–"

Up ahead, Eddward emerged from an adjacent hallway, turned the corner, and began walking in their direction. Johnny and Jimmy flanked him once more.

Kevin's throat bobbed nervously; they'd pass by again, like they had been doing, maybe with a parting shot from Jimmy about his sweater, which he could take. It was the end of the day. They wouldn't bother them.

But Edd might see him, and see the look on his face. Kevin had witnessed a private moment, and he wore his heart on his sleeve; what if it showed?

"Go on, guys, I left something at my locker," he blurted, before turning and ducking around a corner.

"Kevin, your locker's the other wa–" Kevin was already off, taking an extremely circuitous detour to the parking lot, and the relative safety of his bike.

* * *

The following day brought an answer to his problem.

Why that particular football player chose that particular moment to accost Kevin in the hallway was debatable. Kevin didn't know his life – maybe he'd just gone through an ugly break-up, or flunked a test, or maybe he'd just found out he was adopted. The fact of the matter was that the guy had a lot of excess energy and frustration to burn off, and a skinny five-nine dweeb in taped horn-rimmed glasses was as good an outlet as any, apparently.

Admittedly, he should have been watching where he was going; one never knew when someone might interpret an accidental bump in the hallway as a challenge to a fight. He couldn't help but be distracted; he had a problem and a hundred different obstacles between him and the solution, a combination that made for a full head and a bad day.

Kevin found himself hurtling into a locker, where the jutting metal frame of the combination dial slamming painfully into his back, just below his shoulder. Sharp pain paralyzed him for a moment, long enough his attacker to close in on him. At the last possible moment, he ducked, and the kid's fist struck the spot on the locker level with where his face had been.

He barely recognized the guy. He was vaguely familiar, probably one of his classmates, but classmates were hard enough to keep track of when they weren't trying to sandwich him between their knuckles and whatever hard surface they could find. He twisted out from between the bully and the lockers, before taking off to flee. The athlete was twice his size and unfairly fast, and managed to grab his sleeve as well as a chunk of his arm. Kevin yelped in pain, and felt himself be dragged back and thrust against the damn locker again. On instinct, he lashed out with both hands; one missed entirely, while the other scored a lucky hit below the football player's eye.

To his immense relief, the confrontation had not gone unnoticed, and two teachers appeared to separate them – Kevin wondered if they had happened upon the scene, or if someone had gone and fetched them. One of them – Kevin thought he recognized him as one of the P.E. coaches –got between them and managed to push the football player back. The other stayed by him, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder as if the wimpy kid in the ugly sweater was likely to leap back into the fight.

To his immense annoyance, it turned out that he was in trouble for fighting, as well.

"I didn't do anything," he protested, though he dutifully followed the faculty members to the office. "I was just going to class, and he jumped me–"

"The school has a zero-tolerance policy on fighting," Teacher #2 explained bluntly. "You were both being disruptive."

"That wasn't a fight," Kevin persisted. "He was trying to punch me, and I was trying to get away."

"I saw you hit back."

_What, so I was supposed to just stand there and take it?_ Frustrated, Kevin fell silent, and fixed his eyes on the ground so he wouldn't have to look at the other, equally sullen student. He dearly wished he could bring himself to speak his mind on the subject, or at least glare at the guy, but considering how close the other had come to kicking the crap out of him, it was infinitely wiser to keep quiet and keep his head down.

He managed to duck a suspension by dropping the protests, swallowing his pride, and _apologizing_ to the jackass for hitting him, but what he could not avoid was a detention, a phone call to his parents, and–

"You're on campus cleanup tomorrow."

Kevin groaned inwardly.

"The track team will be at a meet tomorrow at Pleasant Hill. You can spend your lunch period cleaning up the locker room."

Kevin gaped. _No. No way._

That was... certainly serendipitous. It looked as if he would be getting his chance after all.

If nothing else, it was worth it to see the football player's utter bewilderment when, on the way out, he thanked him civilly and sincerely for nearly punching his teeth down his throat.


	7. Into the Haystack

Kevin glanced around the track team's locker room, shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder, and heaved a sigh.

On the scale of preferable punishments, campus cleanup lay somewhere between detention and suspension, and fell just beyond the dreaded, mortifying phone call home. Luckily his parents had understood how completely ridiculous this was, so he wouldn't be getting into any trouble with them, but nonetheless, here he was, about to spend the better part of his lunch period neatening up a room whose very air was polluted with testosterone, Axe spray, and the stench of sweat. Besides, he had more important things to worry about, such as whether or not he could actually pull this off.

He shook himself, slipped the strap of his bag over his head to keep it from sliding from his shoulder, opened up his trash bag, and got to work.

He had been presented with a very rare opportunity, he mused as he picked up empty bottles, scraps of paper, and the odd wrapper. Somewhere in this room, possibly, were Eddward's stolen dogtags. Emphasis on possibly – he only knew for sure that they had stashed them here immediately after stealing them. Whether or not the track field's locker room had become their permanent hiding place was anyone's guess. Furthermore, even if it was, he had no way of knowing where they might be. Which, he supposed, was why it was convenient that his pretense of cleaning the place gave him the chance to poke around.

Kevin continued scanning the floor, going from one aisle between lockers to the next, and frowning at them. He had no time to figure out how to pick combination locks, so if they were stashed in one of the lockers, then he was out of luck, and maybe he could just wait until Marie got back, spill everything to her, and let her fix it. That would have been the smart thing. The easy thing.

Of course, by then it might be too late. The flu tended to last over a week, and in that time, the thieves would have ample opportunity to move the dogtags, throw them out, or find an actual dog to put them on, and they could very well be gone for good.

He ventured into the bathroom next, and grimaced as he began sweeping up pieces of toilet paper and paper towels. At least he was only required to pick up trash. Anything else would have been completely unbearable.

In any case, he decided quickly, the dogtags were not there. Where else was there to look?

The office in the back was shut, and the lights were off. Kevin tested the door and found it unlocked, before opening it and flicking the lights on. There were only a few pieces of trash on the ground, which he picked up and threw away immediately. His obligation done, he glanced around the room.

The desk held no obvious clue, and he wasn't quite bold enough to search through the drawers – which were probably locked anyway. Out of curiosity he tried one, and sure enough, it refused to open. Grumbling in annoyance, he cast about for anything, any place the stupid things could possibly be.

His eyes fell upon a large white plastic tub in the corner, filled to the brim with rumpled sweatshirts. The words "Lost and Found" were scrawled on the side in black marker. He bit his lip nervously, with a backward glance at the locker room entrance.

_If they aren't in there_, he vowed to himself, _you're done. You're waiting for Marie_.

Kevin knelt by the tub and began to sift through it. His hand touched something decidedly wet, and he jerked it back with a noise of disgust. Changing tactics, he lifted out each item between this thumb and forefinger, and deposited them in a pile on the floor beside him.

"Why do I do this to myself," he groaned, upon finding a stained pair of gym shorts. Once the tub was nearly empty, he picked up one end of it and gently shook it.

He was rewarded by an answering jingle. A strange excitement filled him, more for the success itself than what that success really was. He tipped the tub back, and a pair of familiar dogtags on a chain slid free of the folds of an unwashed T-shirt.

Kevin reached for them eagerly, only to hesitate at the last moment. His fingers hovered an inch over the tags, and he found it suddenly difficult to take them. He stared at them, uneasy, and felt as if he were standing at the edge of a roof, or a precipice, and about to step out without knowing whether or not something would catch him. Up to now, he had been impartial, uninvolved albeit with unfortunate knowledge, or at least he could pretend he was. He could be _safe_. But now... he was about to leave that. He was about to take a side, and it was a side that he never would have thought he would choose. Why was he doing this again?

His mind took him back to the last locker room he had been in, silent and wide-eyed as Eddward Rockwell's muffled sobs struck him to the core and stirred up his sympathy.

His hand shook as he closed the distance and took them. He crouched there for a moment longer, one hand holding the chain, the other cupped beneath the tags. With a detached outward calmness that he did not feel, he slipped the object into his messenger bag. For good measure, he dug through the contents of his bag, through folders and notebooks and loose papers, to bury the trinket at the very bottom. Without even pausing to secure the clasp, he returned the pile of discarded clothing to the Lost and Found container, stood up, and nudged it back into place with his foot. He shut off the lights, closed the door to the office, and hurriedly gave the room one last glance for any garbage he missed, before washing his hands thoroughly. Finally, he exited the locker room at a run, only to momentarily crumple to the ground outside with a groan of dread.

* * *

Nat spotted Kevin walking briskly at the other end of the hallway at the end of lunch period. He looked odd, pausing every now and then to glance left or right, before continuing at a hurried pace. It was difficult to tell from the back, but he appeared to have one hand on his messenger bag at all times, covering the clasp protectively, while the other held on to the strap as if he was terrified it might slip from his shoulder. Mystified, Nat jogged to catch up with him.

He laid his hand on Kevin's shoulder when his friend was glancing the other way down a perpendicular hallway. "Hey, Kevin, what are–"

Kevin flailed, before turning and recognizing him. "Jesus _Christ_, Nat, don't sneak up on me like that," he snapped, keeping his voice low.

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"You scared the crap out of me!" Kevin retorted. For the umpteenth time, he looked left and right, as if making sure he wasn't being followed. "Okay, sorry, just... look. I need to talk to you about something."

"What, man, did you find something unspeakable when you were cleaning out the locker room?" Nat asked jokingly.

Kevin averted his eyes guiltily. "Uh..."

"Oh shit, you did." Nat's eyes widened. "What was it? You're not blushing about nudie mags, are you? Did you at least bring me some?"

"Dude, shut up," Kevin muttered urgently. "Look, I'm kind of freaking out right now, and I'll tell you why, just – not here. Too many people, and he might show up."

"Who–?" Before Nat could question him further, Kevin grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the student-filled hallway. Nat allowed himself to be towed along until he realized where Kevin was headed, at which point he caught up and walked in step with him. It was a narrow path between the building and the chain link fence that separated that year's nearly-completed construction work. Students normally didn't use that path, except as a shortcut, but the machinery was quiet enough for them to hear each other while making just enough noise to prevent casual eavesdropping.

"Kevin, what's the problem?" Nat demanded, once his friend had finally stopped. "You're acting paranoid."

"Okay, look, just... don't yell at me, all right?" Kevin grumbled, before digging his hand into his bag. "Oh, who am I kidding, you're gonna kill me for this..."

This was doing nothing for Nat's growing unease, but he declined to answer immediately for fear of scaring his friend off. Finally, with one last worried glance at the door they had come through, Kevin pulled his hand out and showed his findings to Nat.

For a moment, Nat simply gaped at Kevin's clenched fist, and the shining object that dangled from it. Then he found his voice.

"Kevin, WHAT THE FUCK."

"They buried them in the locker room's lost and found," Kevin explained nervously, shoving the incriminating item back into the safety of his messenger bag. "Which was actually a really good place to hide it, I mean, it's not like Eddward would want to dig around in a box of dirty jackets and sweat pants, but–"

"Are you _insane_?" Nat was hard-pressed to keep his voice down. "You're walking around with Eddward Rockwell's stolen dogtags, you idiot!"

To Kevin's credit, at least he looked suitably rattled, even if he could still manage a sort of nervous sarcasm. "No, really? I hadn't noticed."

"The guy already has it in for you, and you're walking around with the _one thing you do not touch!_" Nat paused. "Okay, one of the _two things_ you do not touch, since he's kind of psychotically attached to the hat, too." He shook himself. "That's not the point. What the hell were you thinking?"

"The chance was there, so I took it," Kevin answered, sounding dismal. "I know, it was dumb, but... look, _I_ don't even know why I did it, so I don't expect you to get it, but... oh my God, if he catches me with these things..." A mild panic seemed to overtake him, and he reached up with both hands as if to run his hands agitatedly through his hair, though his hat blocked the way. "I'm dead. I am so dead."

Nat tilted his head back, searching the sky above for patience. "Kevin, oh my fucking God."

"What am I supposed to _do_?" Kevin asked helplessly.

"I don't know, man, you're _boned_ for all I know," Nat sighed. "Look, maybe you can wait until Marie's back, then you can tell her what happened and she can hand 'em over. I'm sure she won't tell him you had 'em if you ask her nicely."

"Ohhh no, I am not keeping these things in my house, and I can't just go around all week with these things in my bag!" Kevin protested. "We don't even know when Marie'll be back. It could be plenty of time for Eddward to find out I have them and then..." He shuddered. "Okay, um... what do you think would happen if I just went up and handed them back myself?"

"We'd have to get the janitor to peel you off the wall with a spatula."

Kevin forced a desperate smile. "Maybe he'll go easy on me if I just return them?"

"No, dude–" Nat broke off, rubbing the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. "Look, even if he did believe you, or even stopped for a second to listen to your explanation, you touched his dogtags. Nobody touches the dogtags. Even if he did believe that you swiped them back for him – and I doubt he would, because _I_ can hardly believe you pulled a stunt like that – I don't think he'd care."

Kevin sagged. "Guess I'll be waiting around and swallowing my vomit until Marie gets back, then."

"Gross."

"I seriously want to be sick. Don't worry, I'm never doing this again."

Nat rolled his eyes. "This is where Rolf would say something about shutting the barn door when the horses are already out, or something."

"We'd better tell them what's going on," Kevin murmured. A beat passed, and he perked up a bit, looking thoughtful. "Wait. Hold on, you may be on to something. Swim practice happens on weekdays after school, right? Isn't there one today?"

"I don't like where you're going with this, Kevin."

"The locker rooms will be open, but they'll all be out in the pool," Kevin went on.

"Kevin, no. No more sneaking around empty locker rooms for you, okay? This is how habits form."

Kevin straightened up, looking resolute. "I'm going to try it." He slumped again slightly. "Now I just have to carry these things and dodge Eddward for the rest of today, and then I'll be fine."

"God damn it, Kevin."

Nazz and Rolf were going to have kittens over this.


	8. The Importance Of Stealth

_This is stupid_, Kevin thought as he paced by the open locker room door for the fifth time. _There are better ways of going about this. Smarter ways. Someone might see you. Don't do this, you idiot, just stop and think and come up with a better idea for how to do this without completely screwing yourself over_. Except, carrying these things around was like bearing the One friggin' Ring into Mordor, he was desperate to just be rid of them, and once again, a golden opportunity was presenting itself to him. School had let out, the entire swim team was in the pool for practice, and the locker room was wide open, just begging him to walk in, leave the tags, and walk out with no one the wiser. The more he put this off, the more nails in the coffin if he did get caught with them.

Speaking of putting things off, he wasn't sure how much longer he could risk loitering outside the locker room before someone saw him. With a deep breath (which did next to nothing to settle his nerves), he glanced around quickly before stepping through the door.

His heart was in his throat as he darted quietly around the wall and through the rows of lockers, realizing belatedly that he had no idea which one was Eddward's, or how he would leave the tags for him even if he could find it. Luckily, a lot of the swimmers seemed to be in the habit of leaving their jackets and clothes on the benches parallel to the lockers; with a little luck, perhaps Eddward was among of them. There was an office room in the back for the swim coach; the lights were on and the door was ajar, but one quick glance told him it was unoccupied. Nevertheless, he could feel his pulse in his ears as he continued his search.

The sound of footsteps outside sent him fleeing to the very back corner of the locker room, hand at his pocket to keep the chain and tags from jingling treacherously. In his fright, he couldn't be sure that he could make it to the office without being seen. When he heard the footsteps enter, it was all he could do not to throw up. He pressed himself against the wall, one hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

"...just brutal," someone was complaining as they – there were two of them, Kevin guessed – entered the locker room. "I mean, Jesus Christ, we _won_ the last swim meet, what's got his panties in a knot?"

"Shut _up_, man, you know it's a bad idea to talk like that about him." A locker opened. Something rustled.

"Paranoid much? He's still at the pool, it's not like he's gonna _hear_ me call him a hardass."

"Your funeral. Hey, wasn't Johnny supposed to be in here?"

"I dunno, probably. Guy's _friends_ with the hardass, he probably needs a break sometimes, too."

The locker slammed shut again, followed by the click of a lock, and the two swimmers left the room again. Kevin's heart was still pounding as he uncovered his mouth and shakily continued looking.

There! Near the door to the coach's office, lying neatly folded on the bench, was a familiar black and gray jacket, and an equally familiar stocking cap – also folded, good lord – on top. Relief flooded through Kevin, making his knees weak, and he practically stumbled over to it. He drew the dogtags from his pocket and, cautiously, left them on top of the jacket. As soon as his hand drew away from the metal, he felt as if a considerable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His tension eased.

"I am never doing anything like this ever again," he muttered to himself, before turning, listening for any more interruptions, and fleeing from the locker room as if timber wolves were snapping at his heels.

Behind him, in the supposedly vacant coach's office, Johnny stepped out from behind the door. Curious, he glanced around, wondering what the little twerp had been doing in here; watching him without risking discovery had been next to impossible, so he had been forced to settle with listening. His eyes fell upon his friend's obsessively neat pile of clothes, and the very conspicuous item that had not been there minutes before.

"Well, that was interesting, now, wasn't it, Plank?" he mused to his constant companion. "You think Edd would like to know about this? ...Yeah. Yeah, I think so, too."

* * *

Eddward stood at the edge of the pool, watching his fellow swimmers in the midst of their breast stroke laps. His arms were crossed, the fingers of his right hand drumming impatiently against his bicep. His mood had not lifted since last Friday, and he made little effort to hide it. Two of the swimmers had returned from the locker room, one having retrieved his cap, the other his goggles – eager little freshmen, always forgetting things – and yet Johnny had yet to return from fetching the attendance sheet from the coach's office.

Ah, there he was, hurrying in barefoot and only slowing once he entered the pool area – there was no running by the pool, after all. He paused to place Plank on the bleachers before walking rapidly toward Eddward with the clipboard under his arm and an eager look on his face.

"What took you so long?" Eddward demanded waspishly, snatching the proffered paperwork. "It was a simple errand, and it took you nearly five minutes more than it should have. And what are you grinning about?"

"You're gonna want to see what I found in the locker room," Johnny told him with an easy smirk.

Eddward raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Go look, man. A certain someone left you a present."

"If it was so urgent, you could have at least brought it with you," Eddward snapped.

"Let's just say you wouldn't have wanted me touching 'em. Catch my drift?"

Eddward did, indeed, catch his drift, and his entire demeanor changed from irritation to sudden intensity. "What – are you certain? Who?"

Johnny's smirk widened. "Oh, you're gonna want to hear this."


	9. Sticks and Stones

"Y'know, Kev, not that I'm complaining about the physical contact, but could you maybe support your own weight a little? My shoulder's killing me." Nat nudged Kevin with the shoulder that he was currently leaning his arm on – admittedly somewhat heavily.

"Sorry, Nat," he answered, straightening slightly but not removing his arm from his friend's shoulder. "I'm just... _really_ tired."

The shoulder pat he received in return was intentionally patronizing, and he swatted Nat's hand away as his friend snickered. "I don't blame you, dude, you've had a long couple of days. I mean, it's totally your fault, but yeah, I get you."

"I'm just glad it's _over_ and I never have to think about it again," Kevin groaned, as the two of them took their seats with Rolf and Nazz. "Hey, guys."

"Hello, Kevin, how has your day of freedom gone?" Rolf greeted.

"Relaxing," Kevin answered dryly.

Nat sniffed. "Still wish you could rub it in his face, though. I mean, you ninja'd in and grabbed the things when all he could do was freak out and mope when no one was looking."

"Ah-heh," was Kevin's immediate reply, as his mind dragged him unwillingly back to the previous Monday. He shook himself. "Like I said, I'd rather not think about it anymore."

"No one's going to force you," Nazz pointed out, with a pointed glance in Nat's direction. Desiring a change of topic, or at the very least a distraction, Kevin busied himself with rummaging through his bag.

"Ah, crap," he muttered at length. "I think I left my lunch in my last class."

Nat looked incredulous. "How'd you manage that?"

"I dunno, I was trying to find something in my bag, and I must have taken my lunch out and forgotten to put it back in." With a sigh, Kevin gave up the search and got to his feet. "Watch my bag, will you? I'm gonna go look."

"Want me to come with?" Nat called after him as he hurried away.

"It's cool!" With that parting reassurance, Kevin broke into a jog. After dodging other students making their own way into the courtyard, he caught the door to the hallway just as it was closing, and slipped in. Hopefully, his Economics teacher hadn't left early, and the room would still be open. Hopefully. He didn't feel like going hungry today.

He and Nat had taken their time getting out into the courtyard, and he was relieved to find that there were next to no students to dodge once he was inside. Satisfied, he slowed to a brisk walk. The room was just on the other end of the hall, but from this distance he couldn't tell whether or not the lights were still on inside. He quickened his pace, eyes fixed on his intended destination, impatient to get back to his waiting friends.

He missed the movement to his left until it was already far too late. Even as he turned his head, he could only just register the quick, dark shape before it caught up with him. Hands seized the front of his sweater, dragged him to the side, and slammed him back against the lockers.

"How. Dare. You."

Kevin's glasses were askew, his hat nearly knocked from his head, as he stared up in complete and utter confusion into Eddward's wrathful eyes. The swim captain had him pinned in place, his fists clenching handfuls of his sweater even as they pressed painfully against his chest. The locker behind him was hard and unforgiving, and the back of his head smarted from striking it.

"Did you _honestly think_–" Eddward raged in his face "–that you were going to get away with this? _Did you?_"

Kevin gaped at him, at a loss for words.

"_Tell me!_"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he blurted, lying through his teeth and regretting it instantly. _No no no, tell the truth, that's the only way –_

Eddward yanked him forward just so he could shove him back against the lockers again. "Don't play games with me, Anderson," he said flatly. "Don't ever, ever think you are capable of that. Did you think that I was ignorant of your creeping around me since Friday, avoiding me at all costs? Did you think that you were averting my suspicions?"

"Wait, no, you've got it all wrong, I didn't–"

"Do not interrupt me." Eddward's voice was low, and dripped with menace.

Kevin persisted. "I didn't take your tags, and if you'll just listen, I'll–"

"Don't. Lie. To me."

"I'm _not_ lying, just let me expl–"

"_Shut up_." Kevin's mouth slammed shut almost involuntarily as Eddward continued. "I would have confronted you about it, or perhaps I would have waited for proper evidence of the theft, but then you got wise and returned them. I was fortunate; Johnny witnessed your pathetic attempt at secrecy."

A hollow space took up residence in the pit of Kevin's stomach, and no amount of nervous swallowing would fill it. Where... how...? _The office_. He hadn't checked the office beyond a glance through the window.

Eddward's eyes narrowed, boring into Kevin until he shrank back as much as the lockers would allow. "Did you think it would be over if you returned them?" _Yes_. "Did you think we would be _square_?" _I don't care about square, I just wanted normal._ "Well the answer is no, _pumpkin_. Do you know why?" When there was no immediate answer, Eddward leaned in until they were nearly nose to nose, and it was all Kevin could do not to shut his eyes. "You _touched_ my _tags_. They are _mine_, and you put your _filthy hands_ on them."

"Wait, no, I–" Kevin hesitated, unable to contradict the accusation; he had, after all, touched them. Desperately, he forced himself to look Eddward in the eye, and the contemplative, considering look he saw sent an involuntary shiver through him. "Look, I _swear_ I didn't take them from you. All I did was see–"

"It must be so, so very difficult for you, mustn't it?" Eddward's tone of voice had changed, from outright menace to a softer volume with a threatening undertone. Kevin was hard-pressed to keep from shuddering again with a creeping sense of unease.

"W-what?"

"Oh, everyone else with problems as petty and insignificant as yours, who exist beneath the thumbs of the strong, they can comfort themselves, can't they?" Eddward went on, a snarl curling his words. "For the simple reason that what they lack in brawn, they make up for in brains, and that will mean far more for them in the long run than any ball-tossing oaf's fleeting popularity." He paused, looking scornful. "But you? No, you can't tell yourself that without lying through your teeth, can you? Do you know why? Would you like a hint?"

He did not need a hint. He knew why. "Eddward–"

Eddward cut him off bluntly. "It's quite simple, really. You have _nothing_ _over me_. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, I will always be better than you, and you will always be _so much less!_" He spat out the last words. Kevin flinched, shutting his eyes as Eddward snarled on viciously. "_Average_. _Ordinary_. A footnote in the history of mediocrity. You are nothing, you _mean_ nothing, and no amount of pitiful effort on your part will ever make you anything more." Kevin forced his eyes open, but tucked his chin in and stared at the ground. He wished he could look his tormentor in the eye, he wished he could be defiant, but he did not want to see the utter contempt that he knew would be on Eddward's face. It was bad enough that he had to hear it in his voice. "And if you think that you have accomplished anything with your recent actions, if you think that what you did will mean _anything_ – think again. I will forget that this ever happened. Just like you, just like everything you have ever thought you accomplished, just like everything you ever _will_ accomplish... it will mean _nothing_."

The last word was a door slamming shut on his hand, the blade of a guillotine falling.

It hurt.

Kevin's eyes remained fixed on the ground. "I just thought–"

"No. You _didn't think_. I'm curious, pumpkin; what _did_ you do, in lieu of thinking? What could possibly have–"

"I made a mistake." The words slipped out of their own accord. He waited for Eddward to chastise him for interrupting. A sudden boldness, or perhaps simply apathy, enabled him to lift his chin and look at him.

Instead, Eddward simply looked thoughtful again, if dismissive. "Hm. For once, your evaluation actually holds true. I trust that you will not be making such mistakes again, in the future?"

Kevin stared at him, stone-faced. "...I won't."

The swimmer released him roughly, and without another word, turned on his heel and left.

Kevin remained leaning back against the locker, his breath coming in harsh and shallow. He was trembling; he couldn't tell whether he had just started or just noticed, but either way, he was unsure of his ability to stand much longer. Slowly, shakily, he slid down to a sitting position to wait for the shaking to stop. A burning sensation behind his eyes made him duck his head again, though there was no one around to see. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another, and when the burning did not fade but was joined by an aching thickness in his throat, he knew inevitability when he felt it.

"Kevin?"

He started, visibly, and looked up to see Nat standing a few yards away, looking bewildered and worried.

"Kevin, what happened?" Nat was approaching him slowly, cautiously. "You were taking a while, so I thought... and I just passed by Eddward. Did...?" His voice trailed off.

Kevin tried to hold it back, he really did, but a choked sob forced its way out of him nonetheless. Ashamed, he buried his face in his arms, against his knees, and let the tears fall out of sight. _Crying. How pathetic_. The voice in his head sounded uncannily close to Eddward's.

He felt Nat slide to the ground beside him, and cautiously wrap an arm around his hunched shoulders. This would not last long. In a moment or two, he would look up, dry his eyes, and explain himself. He would forgo retrieving his lunch, he and Nat would return to the others, and he would tell them what had happened. He would try, and fail, to hide how deeply the words had hurt, and they would understand and pretend he was convincing them, while offering what support they could.

For now, however, he sat with his best friend in an empty hallway and released as much of the ugliness that Eddward had left him with as he could.

* * *

He was quiet when he got home.

Not once did he fake a smile or force a laugh for his parents' benefit. His answers to their casual questions and his contributions to dinner table conversation were laconic, rarely exceeding one or two syllables if more were unnecessary. His parents noticed quickly, and he had known that they would, but silence was better than faking normalcy. Falsehood was not his forte; if he tried to pretend he was okay when he was not (and at the moment "okay" seemed like wishful thinking), he would only make his mood all the more obvious. Lying by omission was far easier than lying outright, even if it was barely any more successful.

He was glad that his mother had the consideration to wait until late evening, when he was nearly finished with his homework, to approach him. (But then, she was always considerate.) He was in his room, his door closed, his phone switched off, bent over his desk and the physics calculations in his textbook. His mother knocked gently at his bedroom door; he only knew it was his mother when she waited for his reluctant "Yes?" before entering.

"Hey, Kevin." She sounded cautious, as if she was approaching a wild deer instead of her teenage son.

"Hey."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine." He didn't look up or turn around, but he heard the rustle and creak that told him that his mother was sitting down on his bed. To distract himself from his dread of the coming conversation, he turned a page with a bit more attentiveness than was necessary. "Almost done."

"That's not what I meant, sweetie." God, she sounded so sad. He was pretty sure she didn't _mean_ to guilt him, but still. Sometimes he wondered if moms had built-in guilt trips. "You've been quiet today."

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Stuff." Maybe, with a little luck, she'd get impatient and leave.

Luck, it seemed, had abandoned him for quite some time. He heard her sigh, but it was far from a give-up sigh and much closer to a long-suffering patient one. "Kevin."

The unspoken request hung in the air. _Look at me_. Reluctantly, he turned his head, but did not put down his pencil. She looked worried, and curious, and eager to help. He bit his lip, not wanting to look at her earnestness for long.

She patted the spot next to her. "Come on, take a break." Wordlessly, he obeyed, and settled down next to her. His face was as expressionless as he could make it. "Did something happen at school?"

As a last resort, he gave false normalcy a try. "Things happen at school every day, Mom. That's what your taxes are for." The joke came out forced and hollow, enough that he knew a fake smile would do nothing to save it.

Sure enough, her smile was sad, more a simple encouragement than an honest show of amusement. "You know what I mean, sweetie. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he mumbled.

"Are your classmates still bothering you? I can call in to your principal if you need."

"Won't help." By the look on her face, she probably agreed; running to the school administration was one of the worst ways to deal with a bullying problem.

"Is anyone hurting you?" She tried to make the question casual, but the edge in her voice betrayed her worry.

"No," he said quickly. "No, it's not that, I'm fine, it's just... its stupid." Distractedly he took off his glasses and wiped them on the corner of his shirt. "It's just some stuff someone said, that's all." He hoped she wouldn't ask for details. He didn't want to think about what Eddward had said, much less repeat it. It was bad enough he was letting it bother him at all.

His mother settled her arm around his shoulders. "Hey. You know that old saying? Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me?"

"Yeah," he answered, unenthusiastically. He put his glasses back on.

"Well," she went on. "That's the biggest bunch of crock anyone ever came up with."

This startled a snicker out of him.

"I know words can hurt, Kevin," she assured him. "That's why people use them. It's okay if they get to you – it happens. You don't have to pretend you aren't bothered. It's – it's okay to not be okay."

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

"And you know what else words can do?" Before he could reply, she pulled him into a hug. "Listen, Kevin. I know maybe you don't want to hear this because I'm your mother and it's embarrassing, but I won't tell if you won't, deal?" He nodded. "I love you, and I will always love you. You are honest, and smart, and imaginative, and you never, ever give up, and you are wonderful because of that. You are a good person, and you _matter_, Kevin. And if anyone says otherwise, well, you have my permission to avoid them, because you don't need that kind of negativity in your life. Okay?"

He was pretty sure he managed to answer in the affirmative before she left him grinning and embarrassed, and feeling somewhat better for the first time since that afternoon.


	10. Kicked While You're Down

Passing period had become a scaled-down temple run.

Kevin reached his second class relatively easily, aside from one incident he narrowly missed by grinding to a halt and ducking around a corner when he spotted Jimmy stroll into view up ahead. He knew full well, however, that blind luck would only hold him for so long. The rest of the morning passing periods were a matter of timing, early departures by whatever means available, incredibly circuitous paths through the hallways, and above all, changing directions and tactics at a moment's notice. If he happened to see Eddward, his only real plan was looking at the floor, turning around, walking the other way, and praying that Eddward would neither follow him nor see the look on his face. It barely ever worked. At one point he had come face to face with the three of them, with Jimmy's dark look, Johnny's knowing smirk, and... Eddward, who wouldn't have had to see him in the act to know that their previous "conversation" had driven Kevin to tears.

He hated to let Eddward get under his skin. He had always been able to shrug off whatever the swimmer said, more or less, but this...

This had _hurt_. What was more, it had yet to actually stop, and all he wanted was for that ache to piss off already. Whenever he looked at Eddward, it returned as fresh as it had been yesterday, renewed again and again. He just wanted it to be over. He'd thought it _was_ over, but then, surprise surprise, the light at the end of the tunnel was just an oncoming train. Why had he expected anything else?

That... wasn't exactly why it still hurt, he realized as he darted through the peacefully empty hallways at lunch, heading for the relative safety of his friends. It wasn't that he had expected something different, though he had _hoped_, at least. He had expected a return to normalcy, and while normalcy was pretty awful on its own, at least... at least it made sense and lined up and he was used to it already. The things Eddward gave him crap about were stupid and trivial and in no way warranted the kind of treatment he got, but at least they weren't untrue.

He would have been fine with doing something nice and altruistic and then slipping back into the usual without being seen or acknowledged, and instead he had made everything worse. A fresh stab of hurt accompanied the simple understanding, just as he was turning a corner.

In that moment, he was distracted. That was what cost him.

He was confused and dismayed at first, just as much as he was in pain, when a fist came hurtling into his stomach, just below his sternum. With a gasp – or at least an attempt at one – he doubled over, and another fist crashed down on the back of his neck, flooring him.

Eddward had done a lot of things in the past. He had never raised a hand to him before.

For a moment, Kevin crouched on all fours, wheezing for air and clutching his stomach with one arm, until a kick to the side knocked him over on his back. The messenger bag was torn from his shoulder, probably to be rifled through, its contents emptied all over the floor for him to pick up when they were finished with him. His glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of his nose, but he could look up at his attackers and see them through watering eyes.

Oh. The track team had returned, hadn't they? And with them, the three thieves.

The one on the right was holding a piece of paper, and now tossed it toward him carelessly. It floated gently down to the floor and came to rest beside him, close enough to read. It was a physics worksheet, returned and graded, with a 99 in red ink and the name _Kevin Anderson_ scribbled in the top right hand corner.

"Found that in the locker room this morning," one of them said, though Kevin didn't look up quickly enough to see who.

With some difficulty, Kevin managed to inhale. "_Cleaned it_," he gasped out. Another kick to his side silenced him. His glasses nearly fell off his face completely.

"Shut the fuck up," one of them snapped. "You know what we _didn't_ find?"

_What, the thing you idiots stole from the most dangerous kid on the entire campus? Only took you an entire day to pick up on it, too_. He cursed himself for letting the stupid worksheet slip past him, but he did not answer them out loud.

In the next moment, one of them stepped behind him, heaved him upright by fistfuls of his sweater (and his shoulders, as well), and pinned his arms back. For a few disorienting moments Kevin felt his blood rush from his head, as if he wasn't feeling dizzy enough already. His vision blurred, but he could see that one of the other two stood farther back, holding his messenger bag and pulling supplies out indiscriminately to dump them on the floor.

"You skinny little _bastard_," the third one snarled in his face. "If you fucking told Rockwell, I swear to God–"

Alarm rushed through him. "I didn't–" he wheezed, only to be cut off by another blow to the stomach. He tried to twist away from it, but the one holding him from behind kept him still. By now, his glasses were holding on to his face by friction and a prayer. He longed to reach up and fix them, but his arms were firmly pinned back.

"I don't give a fuck," his attacker snapped. Something small and wet landed on Kevin's face, probably a fleck of spit, and he grimaced in disgust as the jock kept talking. "You know why? Because that was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prank that asshole, and you pissed all over it! You took something of ours, you little shit."

The indignation that flared within him was not for Eddward's sake, oh no. But Kevin was sick to death and tired of people opening their mouths and saying things that were just plain not true by any stretch of the imagination. So, against his better judgment, he looked the jock in the eye and glared at him as best he could. "They were _not_ yours."

The next fist was aimed at his jaw, and sent stars exploding in his vision. The force of the blow wrenched his head to the side, and the pain in the side of his neck told him he had probably pulled a muscle in it. Another blow followed, this time to his mouth, and he tasted blood.

"You have a fucking mouth on you, don't you?" someone said, though he wasn't sure who when his ears were ringing, the stars were still twinkling, and the pain register was taking up most of his brain. "You're getting the shit kicked out of you, and you still don't know when to _shut the fuck up_." His vision cleared, and he managed to look up at the jock again. Behind him, the other athlete carelessly dropped Kevin's messenger bag, though not before pulling out his notebook – the red one – and flipping through it. Sudden alarm broke through the physical pain. Were they going to take it? Or worse, destroy it? Rip out the pages, leave it in the trash somewhere? All his notes, all his diagrams and drawings, all that work and time and passion–

The jock was snickering. "Oh my God, you guys need to see this. Does this nerd seriously write all this shit for _fun_?"

"Let _go_," Kevin growled, straining futilely to escape. "Give it back!" He aimed a kick at the one holding him.

This time, the fist struck home, driving the wind from him and robbing him entirely of further speech. "God _damn_, you're a slow learner, aren't y–" Apparently taking a cue from the one restraining Kevin, the boy glanced to the side and started. The one holding Kevin's notebook captive followed his gaze.

By now, all three jocks had frozen where they were and were staring off to the side, suddenly looking nervous. Still dazed and struggling to breathe, but glad for a reprieve, Kevin turned his head to see what had caught their attention.

Dread filled him, and at the same time, so did hope.

"Uh..." the one holding him began eloquently. "D-did you want something, Eddward?"

How long had he been standing there? Kevin wondered. Had he heard them practically confess? _There's always a bigger fish,_ he thought suddenly, with the delirious simultaneous urge to both laugh and cry, and took so long deciding which to do that he ended up accomplishing neither. (He probably lacked the breath for it, anyway.) Getting bailed out of a beating by Eddward Rockwell was less than ideal, but it was slightly more ideal than the beating itself, especially if it meant that Eddward could just know the truth already. Kevin sagged in the track athlete's grip, limp and weak with weariness and yet just daring to hope. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but the lingering panic of _can't breathe, can't breathe_ prevented him from properly forming the sentences to say it, much less speaking them clearly out loud.

Eddward had heard them. Just like in movies and TV shows, he had shown up just in time to hear what he needed to hear, that Kevin had never taken his things, had never touched them except to return them, that someone else was to blame. Then everything could go back to normal. It could all be over.

He just wanted it to be over.

By now he was staring pleadingly at Eddward as he sobbed for breath, pathetically, shamefully, but there was no other out. _Please, just tell me you heard what they said_.

Eddward stared back at him, eyes flat and impassive, and Kevin's heart plummeted.

He hadn't heard a damn thing, had he.

At length, the swimmer shrugged and turned away. "Not particularly. He's been needing to be taught a lesson anyway, and I don't mind terribly who administers it. Carry on, gentlemen."

Kevin sucked in a noisy breath, but in his desperation he took it in all the same. "Wait!" Another fist to the stomach, almost driving the wind back out of him. "You don't understand, _they_ were–" This time, the jock aimed for the face. On instinct, he ducked, and it connected with his left eye instead of his jaw. His glasses were sent flying, and his body finally answered the urge to cry, without his permission. Straining his watery eyes at the retreating back, he let out a final desperate cry before another punch sent blood streaming down from his nose.

"Eddward, _please_!"

Whether or not Eddward had even turned his head at that, Kevin would never know.


	11. Recoil

Nazz had been guilty of jumping to conclusions, too, at first. Upon finding out that Kevin was in the nurse's office for a bloody nose, two splits in his lip, and a black eye, her immediate reaction was to blame Eddward.

Her second reaction, however, was _not_ to go out and try to destroy his self-esteem with words; it was to fake a stomachache and go to the office to make sure her friend was okay, where she found out that her assumption, while reasonable, had been entirely untrue.

You know, basically what _decent human beings_ do.

She sat next to him as he held a tissue to his nose and waited for an ice pack, and heard the full story from him. Well, an abridged version, anyway; he was using simple sentences and small words, and she knew better than to push him for more.

The nurse was focusing on Kevin, which was a good thing for two reasons; one, Kevin needed care and Nazz didn't, and two, said nurse would take her time with the Tums tablets, which meant Nazz could stay longer. (In fact, Nazz would not have been surprised if the nurse knew exactly why she was there, in spite of any lies she might have told in order to get there.) Kevin's hands were already full with treating his nose, so Nazz simply rested her hand on his shoulder, doing her best to offer her silent support.

"I just don't see the point."

The suddenness of the statement startled Nazz, though thankfully it only showed in a twitch. "What?"

Kevin lowered the tissue and turned to face her, and it took all of her willpower to keep from wincing. He looked somehow smaller without his hat on, to start. It was a silly thing to think, since one measly baseball cap was hardly ample protection against sunlight, much less anything else, but he seemed so much more exposed and vulnerable without it. But that wasn't what struck her. What struck her was... well... everything else. His hair was a dirty, untidy mess, his bangs hanging in tangles over his bruised, battered face. The trickles of blood from his nose and mouth, which had reached his chin before dripping down to stain the front of his sweater, had long since dried and crusted. The eye closest to her was swollen halfway shut, and she could see a bruise darkening on his jaw.

"It was stupid," Kevin went on quietly, and the look on his face made Nazz's every instinct scream at her to _hug, hug now_, but she wasn't sure he would thank her for interrupting him. "I know that. But... it was still _right_, wasn't it? I mean, they were his, those guys straight up _stole_ from him, and giving them back didn't hurt anyone any more than taking them helped. Right?"

Nazz nodded. "Of course," she said quietly. "But did it have to be you?"

"I saw them. I had that one chance when I was cleaning the locker room. It was stupid," he repeated. "But... didn't I do the right thing?"

"Of _course_, Kevin."

"And that's what's wrong," Kevin said. "If I do the right thing, i-if I turn the other cheek and go out of my way to do something nice for someone who treats me like crap, and this happens–" He gestured to himself. "...then why should I bother at all?" He didn't sound bitter, or even angry; he just sounded... disheartened. He looked back to her again. "What's the point?"

She opened her mouth to console him, to offer words of encouragement, and closed it. Instead, she simply rested her hand on his shoulder and resolved to sit with him quietly until she wasn't sure how much longer she could bluff the nurse.

It's hard to think of the words to reassure someone when every direction looks like bullshit.

* * *

It was upsetting, to say the least. He should have been more vigilant. He should have known _better_.

Eddward was good at many things, and that knowledge made confidence one of them. However, he found himself now reminded how easily arrogance could be misconstrued as self-assurance. He must _not_ be arrogant. Arrogance was dangerous. Arrogance was a smokescreen against proper judgment, a threshold for critical errors just waiting to happen.

The outline of his tags were red lines impressed into the palm of his hand, bordering a similar imprint of an 'M'. He had discovered over the past two days that he really only needed one hand to write, or to eat, or to open his locker. His left was right at home, gripping his tags until he was almost sure that the marks on his palm would be permanent. As for swim practice... well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He missed Marie. He hoped that she was recovering.

And yet, he found himself strangely resenting her. He had never begrudged her friendships before – she had her friends and he retained his – but he felt a slight stab of annoyance now, when he remembered that she was friendly with Kevin Anderson. Thoughts of the little – _cretin_ no longer communicated the feeling behind it – had once irritated Eddward as simply a waste of thinking, but now they aroused something dark and angry and careening dangerously toward hatred.

The fact that this little nobody, who he manipulated and harassed for the sake of mild amusement, whose intellect (if one could call it that) was dull and average and utterly ordinary, whose _name_ Eddward could barely remember on the best of days, had slipped beneath his radar and driven him to such a depth of disquiet, was almost more than he could bear. The fact of the matter was that, for all his suspicion at Kevin's evasive behavior in the past few days, for all of Eddward's bluster when actually confronting him, not _once_ in his entire search had it actually crossed his mind that Kevin might have taken them. Not once had he even entertained the notion.

But then, of course he wouldn't have. Kevin wasn't someone he suspected; Kevin was something he stepped over.

He had been surprised, to put it at its most basic level. Perhaps, from here on out, he might be more alert. He might actually look at the the boy, really look at him, when he spoke at him.

To begin, Eddward might as well make an effort to remember his name.

* * *

It struck him with the force of a freight train.

One moment, Kevin was staring in the school bathroom mirror, dabbing gingerly at his eye with the soaked paper towel he clutched in both hands. Tears beaded in his eyes, a natural pain response to poking at his injured face. The next, he was staring downward in the general direction of the sink, wide-eyed, seeing nothing, as his fingers curled tightly into the cool, wet paper. He felt it give way in his hands until it ripped in half entirely, and the pain-tears in his eyes became real ones. His chest felt tight, his throat burned. He could not breathe, he could barely see or hear, and yet...

There was a power to what he was feeling, and it simultaneously frightened and exhilarated him. He released the paper towel pieces, only to curl his hands into fists again, before cocking the right one back and smashing it straight into the wall.

Pain shot up to his shoulder, and he gasped but did not cry out. The wall did not give way, but the skin of his knuckles did, and he was lucky that the bones did not follow suit. He shook out his hand, feeling the cool air sting the newly-opened cuts. His breath came in furious gasps, the tears continued, and he would later be grateful that this moment had no witnesses.

He was angry.

He had never been so angry.

Perhaps, in another life, if he had been born with more physical strength and were more prone to this kind of anger, then he might have been a bully himself. The thought unsettled him. And yet, part of him, that dark part from which this rush of rage has reared its ugly head, could not help but envy this hypothetical Kevin. He could not help but wish for a world in which he was the strong one and Eddward was weak. In that moment, just in the span of a few breaths, Kevin honestly wanted nothing more than to see Eddward feel what Kevin felt now, when he was only able to imagine saying things that he could never say out loud, or to Eddward's face.

_Every day. Every time you talk to me, every time you open your mouth, you make me feel weak, and pathetic, and tiny. You have no right. Do you hear me? NO RIGHT. Because the only one who's weak and pathetic and tiny is YOU. _

He took a breath again, and nearly choked on it. The near-hyperventilating turned to gasping sobs. His throat was tight and painful.

Yeah, right.

As if he would ever say that. Nice thought, though.

The freight train moved on, leaving him battered and limp on the side of the tracks. With a shaking hand, he turned on the faucet and ran cool water over his knuckles until the blood was swirling down the drain.

It wasn't fair.

Karma was supposed to be a thing, wasn't it? What goes around comes around, and all that stupid garbage? Or maybe that was a bunch of crock, too.

He wiped his eyes with his uninjured hand.

He couldn't even blame Eddward for his physical hurts and get him in trouble for that. Because Eddward had never laid a hand on him, had never needed to. He had a silver tongue, with barbs if he needed them, and could probably refute any lie Kevin could think of.

Kevin wasn't sure what made him angrier, the fact that he could never get away with it, or the painful awareness that he probably wouldn't have told the lie even if he could.


	12. The Minnow Bites Back

Returning to school after missing a week was a bit surreal, especially when exerting herself for too long still made her dizzy.

Of course, Marie had only _technically_ missed school. When one's sister was a top student who was only too happy to visit her teachers for any work she missed, keeping up was just a matter of playing catch-up in the last few more-or-less-lucid days and cramming the information into her tired, recently-feverish brain. It was less of a reason to worry, if nothing else.

What did worry her was the fact that she had missed the last swim meet. She had missed it by _that much_. Edd had been counting on her like he always did, and just her luck, the flu had come a-knocking. She wondered whether he had trusted someone else to hold his dog tags for him or been able to put aside his borderline paranoia and stick them in his locker. If it was the latter... hell, it might be good for him. Might teach him to trust that not everyone was a douche.

The hum of conversation went on around her, but she largely ignored it as she made her way through the halls. It wasn't until her own locker was in sight that a familiar voice lifted itself above the rest.

"Marie! Hey, Marie!"

Still feeling not quite all there, Marie turned to find herself greeted by half-moon glasses and a bright grin, and found herself smiling back. "Morning, Nazz."

With one arm, Nazz hugged her books against her chest; with the other, she drew a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "It's great that you're back," she said, smiling over the rims of her spectacles.

"Heh, thanks." Despite the lingering fuzziness in her head, Marie inwardly melted. _Oh no she's still cute somebody hold me_.

"So, um, I assume you're feeling better, then? How are you doing?"

"Oh! Uh, still a little out of it sometimes, but I'm good!" _Oh my God and she's been concerned about my well-being too._

"Oh, that's good then. I mean, that you're good. Uh." Nazz looked just the tiniest bit embarrassed, and her ears turn slightly pink.

_She's like a kitten I just wanna hug her oh no must continue the conversation somehow just say something_. "Oh yeah, and I just missed that swim meet last week, didn't I?" Marie blurted. "Uh, d-did it go all right?"

The smile on Nazz's face vanished as if she'd shaken it from an Etch-a-Sketch. _Crap. CRAP. Damn it she hates Eddward you dumb girl what were you thinking. _

"Yes," Nazz replied, suddenly cautious and wary.

_Abort! Abort! Panic!_

"Would you say it went swimmingly?"

The question had slipped out before she could stop it. Wistfully she imagined an alligator dropping out of a trap door from the ceiling and eating her.

For a split second she was met with Nazz's utterly dumbstruck expression, before the blonde's face crumpled in a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"What the hell?" Nazz giggled. "Sorry, that was terrible, I just wasn't expecting that."

_Ooh, good save, Marie. Looks like__you're not a total screw-up after all._

"You do realize puns are the lowest form of comedy, right?" Nazz went on, her tone teasing.

"Puns are the _highest_ form of comedy," Marie retorted playfully. "A good fifty percent of Shakespearean humor is made of puns."

"It doesn't count if the other half is mostly dick jokes."

This surprised a laugh out of Marie, and her embarrassment over the previous awkwardness had almost faded entirely when Nazz spotted something behind her, and froze. Confused, Marie searched her face for some sort of clue, but it was as if a pair of doors had slammed shut behind her eyes. Nazz's expression chilled, and an unnerving anger had taken over the previous lighthearted mirth. Marie followed her gaze and glanced back over her shoulder.

Ah. Word of her return had reached Eddward, apparently, or it was a simple coincidence that he was passing through the hallway right at that moment. A lump began to form in her throat, and the old, loitering concern reclaimed its usual place in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed the lump, as she always did, and pushed the constant worry to the back of her mind where she could manage it. Edd was her best friend and she loved him with all her heart, she really did, but something about him just never failed to darken the mood.

He seemed different now, though. Maybe her absence had softened the memory of his dour moods, or simply gotten her accustomed to only worrying about herself, but she doubted it. In any case, he seemed several times more sullen than he normally did, which was saying a lot. He blinked when he spotted her looking at him, as if noticing her for the first time; perhaps it had been simple coincidence, after all. She probably looked paler than usual, but she gave him a small smile anyway, and even from across the hall she could see the sullenness give way to something a touch more welcoming.

"Well, I have to go to class now," Nazz spoke up suddenly, startling her. Marie looked back at her, and knew that she probably couldn't reclaim the previous ease of conversation. Nazz's voice was falsely bright, and the cheerful smile looked pasted on. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure," she answered, not sure how real her own grin looked. Briskly, Nazz turned and left.

Okay, this was just a bit weird. That Nazz hated Eddward had never been a secret to Marie, or beyond her understanding; hell, she got it. With most people he had enough venom in him to drop an elephant, and there was a _reason_ she'd decided long ago that pursuing him was a bad idea. But Nazz usually didn't cut off conversations midsentence just to trade death glares from halfway down the hall. And what was up with Edd? He'd looked ready to drive a serial killer to tears.

"It's good to see you back, Marie." By some miracle, she managed not to jump; lost in her thoughts, she had failed to notice Edd's approach.

"Thanks, Edd." This grin was genuine, at least. "Sorry I missed your meet."

"No need to apologize," he replied. "One seldom asks to come down with influenza, after all. I'm glad you are well again."

"Did it go well, at least?" she asked, deciding that cringe-worthy puns were probably the wrong way to endear herself to him at the moment.

And there was that look again, that expression that made her wonder if he was about to sprout fangs and spit poison, or perhaps even swear. "It went fine," he said flatly. "I won all my events, as per usual." He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was tight. "I'm sorry you missed it, as well."

"Did... something happen?" she asked cautiously, knowing full well that she would have been less precarious walking on spun glass and spiderwebs.

Edd heaved a sigh, one hand absently toying with his dog tags. "Kevin thought it would be amusing to appropriate my dog tags, unfortunately. Partly my fault, really; I was careless, and I lacked a backup plan for where to put them while I was swimming."

"Wait, _what_?" If that had actually happened, then Kevin was a lot dumber than she had given him credit. "A-are you sure it was him?"

Edd shrugged. "He must have come to his senses after a while, because he tried to sneak them back without being seen, just the day before yesterday. Johnny spotted him with them. Furthermore, he admitted it."

"Jesus," Marie muttered. "I'm really sorry, Edd, I didn't mean to get sick like that–"

"It's pointless to apologize for something entirely out of your control, Marie."

The late bell interrupted them, and Marie stepped away. "Well, you'll have to tell me all about how the meet went later," she said. "I'll see you later, then." So much for stopping by her locker.

"Of course. Again, welcome back."

For crying out loud, she couldn't leave for _one measly week_ without everything going straight down the toilet, could she? As she walked as quickly as she could to her first class of the day, she silently cursed fevers, flu viruses, and idiots who couldn't cover their mouths when they sneezed. Something about this whole thing didn't sit well with her. Kevin wasn't that stupid, and surely Nazz was sensible enough not to aim _all_ her wrath at Edd if Kevin had been the one to do something so silly and – let's face it – mean-spirited. God, everything had just fallen apart, hadn't it? Nazz was pissed off at Edd. Edd was more pissed off in general than usual. Friggin' drama was going to be the death of her. At least she was fully awake now.

It seemed her first priority would be to talk to Kevin.

* * *

She finally caught up to him him in the computer lab after second period, and she didn't like what she saw.

He was slowly gathering his things as if reluctant to leave the room for break, ducking his head in an attempt to be less noticeable (rather futilely, she thought; not to take a leaf from Jimmy's book but that sweater was so _loud_). She approached from the side, tilting her head slightly to catch a glimpse of his face. He wasn't quite scowling, but he didn't seem anywhere near pleased, either. His brows were knitted together, and his mouth was a thin, tight line.

It was unsettling, really. She usually didn't see that kind of subdued hostility on any face that wasn't Edd's.

Moreover, she was approaching from his left, which meant she could see the fading bruise on his jaw, and another just beneath his eye. She mouthed a curse to herself. Had Eddward done that? He'd never laid a hand on him before, at least not to physically harm him. Would he really have gone that far?

Only one way to find out.

"Hey," she greeted. She glanced back at the door, just in time to see the last person leave.

He glanced at her. "Welcome back."

"Thanks." She wondered how she might transition smoothly into the desired subject, and thought, _Screw it_. "What happened with Edd while I was gone?"

Kevin dropped his notebook. Without commenting or trying to excuse the error, he simply stooped and retrieved it. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But I want to hear about it."

"No."

"Something _did_ happen, though, right?" she pressed, feigning total ignorance.

No reply. It was as good as a resounding "Yes."

Encouraged, she pushed a little further. "At the swim meet?"

With a sigh, he stopped. "Marie, I really don't want to–"

"I know you hate him," she interrupted. "And I get it, okay? You have every right to, and I can't apologize enough for him. But... just... please, Kevin?" She paused, praying for assent, or even just an answer that indicated that he wasn't ending the conversation. He still wouldn't meet her eyes, but after a moment of tense silence, what he gave her was close enough to what she wanted.

"I don't... _hate_ him."

She wished the quiet admission didn't surprise her as much as it did, but she didn't press it. "Then tell me. Maybe I can help."

He looked dubious.

"We'll never know unless I try, and I can't try if I don't know."

Kevin sighed.

Without looking at her, or even turning away from his bag, Kevin told her. It took no more than a series of curt sentences as he finished packing his things. Marie stood with her hands in her pockets, outwardly impassive, soaking in the information without comment.

When he was finished, she glanced at the clock, and inwardly patted herself on the back for having the sense to talk to him during break, with fifteen extra minutes between classes. "Wait here for a sec, will you?" When he nodded assent, she turned on her heel and strode out the door and into the hallway. Thankfully the halls were beginning to clear as students went to gather with friends in the courtyards, but she knew the habits of certain parties well enough not to seek them out there.

She found Edd at his locker, as she knew she would, his mood still considerably more sullen than usual. He slammed his locker roughly, only to look up and see her coming. It was always gratifying to see his dark looks lighten almost imperceptibly whenever he looked at her, but she had neither the time nor the patience to focus on such things at the moment.

"Salutations, Marie," he greeted her. "Was there something you neede – ow! Ow! _Hey!_"

Marie knew she had certain privileges with Eddward Marion Rockwell. Certain _rare_ privileges (not the least of which was the knowledge that his name was, in fact, Eddward Marion Rockwell), such as fewer boundaries, sass rights, that sort of thing. She preferred to avoid taking advantage of such privileges, for Edd's sake, but sometimes... just _sometimes_, you know?

Sometimes, for a genius, Eddward Marion Rockwell could be so _damn stupid_.

So maybe, just maybe, when she halted by him and wordlessly reached up, seized his earrings between her thumb and forefinger, and began unceremoniously towing him back the way she had come, she was taking advantage for his sake, too.

The few people still present in the hallways invariably noticed the protesting swim captain being dragged by the ear through the halls, by a girl half his size no less, but Marie could afford to care later. "Marie, what on earth – _ow_! This is undignified! Either release me or explain yoursel–"

"Shoosh."

"Don't you 'shoosh' me, I demand that you at least tell me where you're dragging me!"

"Shoosh."

Thankfully, Edd was speechless with indignation long enough for Marie to haul him all the way back to the computer lab and shut the door behind them. Even more thankfully, Kevin was momentarily too dumbfounded to immediately storm away. There was a slight scowl of annoyance on Marie's face as she dragged Edd over by the earrings, released him, and gave him a shove that sent him momentarily stumbling forward.

Marie had not expected Kevin to like the solution she was choosing. When she looked him in the eye and saw the metaphorical doors slam shut, the way Nazz's had at the mere sight of Eddward earlier, she was not nearly surprised enough to be discouraged. She was grateful, really, that Kevin had waited for her at all, that he had given her the benefit of the doubt, and if it had been the proper moment, she would have thanked him. He was glaring at her now, moments away from leaving, but she returned the look unflinchingly and pointed to the frowning, baffled swim captain that stood beside her and rubbed his smarting ear. "Tell him what you told me."

The shorter boy took a moment to transfer his angry glower to Edd before slinging his bag strap over his shoulder and stepping past them.. "I appreciate it, Marie, but mind your own business." His tone carried an unspoken _go to hell_.

Even if he had said it out loud, it would have taken a lot more than that to faze her, but she could almost physically feel the flash of temper from Edd. Kevin was only a few yards from the door when her friend caught up to him, hand slamming against the wall and cutting off his escape.

To Kevin's credit, he barely twitched.

"_That wasn't very polite, pumpkin,_" Edd growled. In front of him, Kevin stared at the ground, his eyes burning with barely-contained anger.

Marie sighed, irritated, and casually reached for Edd's ear again. Ever the quick study, her friend stepped back. "Just tell him about the tags, Kevin."

"No." No longer blocked by Edd, he moved to leave.

"Really, Marie, if this is what has you so disconcerted, there is hardly any need for that," Edd informed her, his tone scalding. Kevin paused, the one hand curled around his messenger bag strap tightening into a white-knuckled fist. "Kevin has already explained things to me. More to the point, he has made it clear that he will _not_ be making such _silly errors_ again. I, likewise, made my own feelings on the matter clear, as well. Wouldn't you agree, pumpkin?"

The other hand was also a fist now. This was not panning out the way Marie had hoped, but it was panning out nonetheless. Longing for a bomb shelter, or at the very least a good umbrella, she stepped back and let it.

"What perplexes me, pumpkin," Edd went on "is that you apparently came to the conclusion that it was a good idea."

"Yeah," Kevin replied, his voice taut like a rubber band about to snap. "It 'perplexes' me, too."

"Well, you learn quickly, I'll grant." Edd smiled without really smiling. "I do hope that from here on out, you will refrain from–"

"_Shut the hell up_."

And _snap_.

"...Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Kevin spat. He paused, his clenched hands shaking slightly, and whipped around to face Edd. "Actually, you know what? No. You're not. Because I told you, I didn't take your stupid tags."

Edd raised an eyebrow. "I do hope you make up your mind eventually, pumpkin, because you said–"

"I said I made a mistake!" Kevin cut him off a second time. "If you're going to come to your own conclusions about what I meant, then that's _your_ problem, not mine!"

There was a split-second flicker, an infinitesimal moment of unease, in which Edd looked to Marie for an explanation. She stared back impassively. He was about to get one anyway.

"I saw them _get_ taken, all right?" Kevin went on, his voice scathing. "I knew where they were and who had them, but I wasn't going to say anything because why _would_ I?" Furiously, he looked away for a moment, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "But then I saw you moping around and freaking out about losing them, and, and –" He shut his eyes briefly. "–and _finally_, just for _once_ you were acting like maybe you were a member of the human race after all. And for some _stupid_ reason that I still don't understand, I decided to go out of my way to help you!" He squared his shoulders and faced Edd, staring him straight in the eye. "That was my mistake, Eddward! My mistake was _feeling sorry for you_!" His voice shook as it lowered. "But don't worry, because I will _never make that mistake again._"

A moment of shocked silence passed, and then –

"I neither need nor want your pity," Edd said coldly.

"Thank _God_," Kevin spat back. "Because the next time you lose something precious enough to _cry over_, you're on your own." Contemptuously, he turned his back on Eddward without even acknowledging or relishing the latter's look of utter astonishment. He paused, one last time, to spit his final words bitterly over his shoulder. "You know what I've realized? My life would be so much easier if I just stopped trying to be good to people. _Fuck you_ for making me wish I was more like _you_."


	13. The Heart of the Matter

He had been wrong.

If there was one thing no genius enjoyed, it was being wrong. It was almost an insult, really.

He had gotten emotional, and he had gotten every. Single. Thing. Wrong. Having it thrown in his face by both his best friend and a clumsy, utterly ordinary little nobody stung like a personal affront.

The pity stung just as much. The knowledge that his moment of weakness had had a witness was nearly too much to bear. The combination of the three set his heart rate racing and filled him with vehement anger until his limbs shook with it. He could feel the rational part of him be slowly crowded to the back of his mind, choked off by fury and heated shame.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Eddward growled, his voice low. He was outwardly calm, and practiced at remaining that way, though he doubted Marie was fooled. She knew him too well.

She looked him in the eye, unwavering. "Yes."

"You were not involved."

"'Were' being the operative term here."

"This is not a joke, Marie!" he snapped.

"You're telling me!" she retorted. "Besides, you were upset. That makes me involved whether you like it or not."

"Oh, and I'm _not_ upset now," he snarled, his tone drenched in sarcasm. The anger made an attempt to flare up, but with some effort he kept it low, under control, like a Bunsen burner. "You are _not_ my keeper, Marie."

A quiet scoff. "Could've fooled me. I'm gone for a little over a week and look what happens."

"My business is my own!" he snapped again. He struggled inwardly, fighting to keep his anger contained. "You had no right to interfere that way! You went too _far_. Do you have any idea how many boundaries you overstepped–?"

"You were hurting someone." She was shaking, but not faltering.

Her words, and the tone with which she spoke them, threw salt on the wound, and his temper flared. "Don't you _dare_ judge me!" She cringed, and almost unconsciously he backed off, but did not back down. "What gives you the right?" he demanded. "What gives you the right to stand there and – and _lecture_ me on what I do?"

She met him head-on, an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force. "Are you angrier that I got involved, or that you were wrong?"

Something in him snapped, and his leashed anger blazed completely out of his control. "You were not there, Marie!" His voice rose before he could stop it, and it was a losing battle to bring it back under control. "It was not any of your business, and yet you went and meddled and – and–"

He was pushing her, some part of him acknowledged. He could see it in her face, in the hardening of her expression, her eyes. "And _what_, Edd."

The heart of the matter slipped out before he could stop it.

"Youtook_ his _side!"

Marie recoiled as if he had aimed a blow at her, but he was past caring because it was not fair, it was nowhere _near_ fair, because she was _his_ friend, _his_ confidant, the _only_ person he would ever allow to touch his possessions, or know when and where and why he hurt, or see what it looked like when he was weak, and she had gone and _used _that, had defended someone else, had stood against him –

Everything hurt, and no amount of effort from him would bury it or wrest it aside. And when he felt this helpless, all he could do was push, lash out, fight back against whatever was within reach. "What is your _problem_?" he demanded. "I thought you and I were friends! Was I wrong about that, as well?"

He had not seen the tears until it was too late, until they were already there, spilling over as Marie opened her eyes wide and pushed back.

"My _problem_ is that I _am_ your friend!" It was difficult to describe her tone. She was not simply shouting at him; in fact, she may not have been shouting at all. But every word struck, penetrated, dug in like nails. Tears glittered in her eyes and on her face, and he took a step back. "My _problem_ is that I care about you, Double D! And – and sometimes I just get so scared that one day I'll look around and realize I'm the only one!" She breathed in, and it made an awful, anguished noise that had a similar effect on his anger to that of ice water on fire. "I don't _want_ that," she said shakily. "Because I _was_ on your side. I'm _always_ on your side. Don't you realize that _he_ was, too?"

Eddward gaped at her, for once at a loss for words. He had never been one to curse, particularly at himself, but he could understand in that moment why some people felt the need.

She stopped, shutting her eyes as if gathering herself back together, but when the tears continued, she opened them again. It hurt to meet her eyes, but if she could do it, then so could he. "I just want you to be _happy_," she said, her voice trembling._ "_A-and I'm tired of watching you act like you _don't_, o-or ruining it when someone comes along who might actually want that too." She wiped her eyes, futilely, bravely keeping her face as straight as she could. "I know you don't want to hear it," she went on quietly. "But I care about you. And what makes me sad, what makes me just – so _angry_ with you – is that he could've cared, too."

"Marie–"

The first bell rang.

Students had already begun trickling back in, but now the hum of conversation outside grew as more headed either for their lockers or their next classes. At any moment, the next class would be arriving, and any hope for privacy would be entirely gone.

Marie turned to the door. "I gotta go." Even without her facing him, Edd could see her wiping her eyes on the heel of her hand.

He took a step toward her. "Marie, wait–"

She was already walking away, opening the door that Kevin had slammed shut minutes before. "I have class, Double D. I'll see you later, okay?"

He darted after her. "Marie!" She was already gone, leaving Edd standing alone outside the computer lab.

One curious student – Edd supposed he recognized him from free period – had apparently noticed the final exchange, and looked quizzically from Marie's retreating back to Edd. Edd fixed him with a stare that was fully attentive and nothing short of venomous, and his classmate walked away quickly with a sudden and deep fascination with the ground.

He still had reason to hope, he supposed. She would not have called him that if she had wanted nothing more to do with him, after all. Still, he decided, as he turned to walk briskly to his next class, he would be very glad when this entire affair was behind them.

* * *

Kevin supposed it was a good thing, that Eddward knew. Not that he had ever considered it a _bad_ thing. But throughout the previous week, he had wanted nothing more than for Eddward to know, when at this point it seemed so... hollow.

At the very least, it couldn't be worse than Eddward assuming he was both stupid and a thief (and really, in this case, the two were interchangeable).

Kevin decided, after some thought, that he was not angry with Marie. Nor was he particularly pleased. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt, because... did it even matter at this point? It would be better, safer for it not to matter. There was no point. If there was one, he didn't see it.

He paid attention in class, but he still felt strangely detached, hollow, like a puppet with its strings cut and its stuffing removed. That was an awkward way to describe it, though, because words like that made it sound so unpleasant. If anything, it felt... _lighter_, almost. Freer. He had forgotten the specifics of his earlier outburst, but for the first time in over a week, since he had watched a track team athlete walk away with two accomplices at his side and Eddward's dogtags swinging carelessly from one hand, since he had stood silent and trembling while Eddward sobbed quietly on the other side of the locker room, since he had stepped out of the safety of neutrality and snatched the tags from their hiding place, Kevin felt like he could breathe the way he was meant to. No uncomfortable weight in his chest, no Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, no lump in his throat that no amount of swallowing would rid him of.

If anything, he felt clearer than he had before the entire mess had even started, and _God_ was it distracting. Every now and then he checked himself to make sure he wasn't light enough to float away.

But when it all came down to it, Kevin realized absently over his lunch, he had no idea how to feel about any of it.

Kevin furtively watched his friends from his vantage point behind his sandwich. None of them knew about what had happened during break. Well, there was the slightest possibility that Nazz knew, if Marie had told her, but considering how Marie was when Eddward was involved, it was pretty slim. He wondered if he should tell them. He wondered about a lot of things.

"I don't think you should give it up."

Kevin paused in chewing.

The statement had come from Nazz, who was not looking at him, but could not have been addressing anyone else.

Nat stared quizzically at her over his half-eaten burrito. "What?"

Nazz's eyes flickered up to meet Kevin's, who stared at her in bland curiosity. "Remember your question? About what the point is?"

Swallowing, Kevin nodded wordlessly.

"Well, I don't know what the answer is. Hell, I don't even think there _is_ an answer." She hesitated, twitching her spoon thoughtfully. "Not just one, at least. But what I do know is that praise and recognition is exactly what the point of being a good person _isn't_. That's what integrity is, right? Doing the right thing even if no one's watching?"

"Yeah, but in the case of Kevin, someone _was_ watching, and that someone was a friend of Shark-Edd-Boy," Rolf pointed out dryly. "That was the whole of the trouble, yes?"

"I know, but – look." Nazz put her spoon back in her fruit salad. "I mean, first of all, Kevin, what happened to you wasn't your fault, but you still could've been a little smarter about it." Kevin scowled at her. "I mean smarter than leaving a worksheet with your name on it for those dumb jocks to find, or sneaking into the pool locker rooms. You know? And really, even if Douchey Dick _had_ known from the beginning, do you really think he'd magically start being nice to you?"

"That's not why I did it," Kevin protested, feeling a bit defensive.

"Then why'd you do it?" Nat broke in.

Kevin glanced at his feet, the honest answer hovering on the tip of his tongue. _Because he cried. Because they were his, and he loved them and wanted them back, and he cried when he couldn't find them._ Nothing would have stopped him from saying it out loud. Sharing Eddward's weakness with his friends would have been a decent little act of revenge, after all. And yet...

There had been no one else, to his knowledge. No one else had been in that locker room and heard and seen what he had heard and seen; not Jimmy, not Marie. Just him. It had been his secret, his own piece to the puzzle that was Eddward Rockwell, and it was bad enough that he had lost his temper and blurted it out to Eddward himself, in front of Marie. Why should he spread it any further?

After all he had been through over one altruistic act, he could afford to be a little selfish.

"I don't know," he said simply, because in a way, that was also still true.

"Look at it this way, Kevin," Nazz went on. "Being an ass to everyone is easy. Being selfish and mean and thoughtless, it's all so easy. Being a good person is hard." She raised an eyebrow at Kevin. "You really want to pick the easy way just because people might not thank you for not being a dickhead? Just because _Eddward_ doesn't get it?"

"No," Kevin said automatically. "That would be..." His voice trailed off a little. "It'd be a little like..."

"Letting him win," Rolf broke in. "Folding like Nanna's adversaries in midnight poker bouts."

"What he said," Kevin finished, fist-bumping him. In spite of himself, he grinned. "Yeah. I think I can do it the hard way." Perhaps a little self-righteous satisfaction with his own moral superiority wasn't _quite_ the right reason to, as Nazz put it, not be a dickhead, but it beat being a nihilist.

It beat being someone like Eddward.


	14. Mending

"I would like to apologize."

They sat somewhat apart, separated by a few feet of space on the concrete wall. No one else had the nerve to take the space between them. Marie sat with her feet up, her knees drawn close to her chest. Eddward was bent forward, hunched with his arms braced in his lap, staring at the ground.

After a moment, he mustered the courage to turn his head and see her face. She was looking back at him with the one eye that wasn't obscured by blue bangs. Her mouth quirked up in a smile that, while subdued and somewhat rueful, was in no way insincere.

"Am I really the one you should be apologizing to?"

Eddward straightened his back, though he remained bent forward, leaning on his knees. "I upset you. That was never my intention." He paused, and he hoped she could forgive him for turning his face away again, just long enough to mutter, "I am sorry, Marie."

She could. "It's all right, Edd. And... I know I kind of jumped into the middle of things without asking. And if I hurt you by doing that, then I'm sorry, too."

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and the two of them sat for a few moments in a comfortable, companionable silence.

At length, Marie slid her feet down to the ground again and leaned back, planting her hands behind her. "But seriously, I know you don't get along with him at all, but he deserves an apology."

Sullen silence.

"He helped you, Edd."

"I am aware of that," Edd answered bluntly. He paused. "I am not looking forward to it, however."

"Well, no one ever does. Don't know what to say?"

"Among other things."

Marie grinned. "You're a genius. You'll think of something. Maybe you can put a bunch of 'Sorry' labels on his locker or something."

"Now you're being purposely obtuse." With a sigh, Edd got to his feet.

"Where're you going? You think of something already?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward in a smile, his lips parting just enough to show teeth. "Perhaps."

"That's the spirit. See you later, Double D."

"Of course, Marie." Eddward pointed himself in the direction of the track, and started walking.

* * *

There had been no care or caution in this theft.

Why would there be? The crime had been committed in full view of the notebook's owner, wagged proudly in his face as the culprits practically danced upon his helplessness in their triumph. There was no point in hiding it when, not only was their victim aware of them, but entirely helpless to do anything about it. It was half-forgotten by now, anyway; in a few days, whoever happened to be holding it would probably discover the unwanted thing in his backpack and leave it in a dumpster somewhere. Everyone would move on with their lives, except the dork who would be minus one nerd-notebook, but everyone important would move on with their lives.

Except for the fact that none of that was actually going to happen.

No amount of caution could have stopped it, but the fact that the track runner who was carrying the thing had been in too much of a hurry to notice immediately that his backpack was open simply sped things along. Moreover, as he caught up to his two friends outside of the locker room after practice had run over into lunchtime, both either failed to notice or failed to see any point in telling him. Very considerate of them, really.

One rarely, however, fails to notice the distinct sensation of someone sliding something out of one's backpack. It was already done, deftly, almost carelessly, by the time the athlete whirled around in indignation.

"What the fuck, man, stay out of–" He stopped speaking when he saw who he had the pleasure of addressing. The other two turned around as well, a beat behind, and froze.

They had neither seen nor heard him approach.

"Very impressive, I must say, Jackson, was it?" Eddward Rockwell mused, flipping idly through the pages of a familiar red notebook. Sunlight reflected and winked off of his dogtags, which hung shining clean and polished in their proper place around his neck. The three of them avoided looking at them, or at each other. "And here I was under the impression that you were _failing_ Introduction to Physics. Why, these designs display a knowledge of mechanical engineering that goes far beyond basic, when, last I checked, your own knowledge barely scratched the surface of _rudimentary_." Never once did he raise his voice, but the last few words were harsh and cutting.

"Come on, man, that's not yours." Impelled by some stubborn boldness, or perhaps by the slight to his intelligence that not even the swim captain's vocabulary could disguise, Jackson made a grab for the stolen item. His hand, though aiming for the notebook, inevitably came closer to the other formerly-stolen item that now rested against Eddward's chest.

It was difficult to discern whether the snapping sound was from the notebook shutting, or from Eddward seizing him by the wrist. His grip was vicelike, painful, and his thumbnail dug into skin in such a way that the harder Jackson pulled back, the deeper it sank.

"Ow, ow – hey!"

"_Really_?" Eddward hissed, before any of them could demand he let go. "Is that your argument? Are you certain you wouldn't like to think of another? Phone a friend?" Green eyes, narrowed into angry slits beneath his hat, flicked past him to bore into the other two. If they had been entertaining any ideas of freeing their friend, they now reconsidered them. "Did you _honestly think_," he went on, "that I would not find out?"

One of the other two attempted to weasel a way out for them all. "Find out about wha–"

"I was speaking rhetorically, so _shut. Up._"

The halfhearted lie died in his mouth.

"So help me," Eddward snarled. "If you enjoy your lives as they are now, your current privileges and luxuries of school and shallow little friendships, you will keep your _filthy_ hands off of what is not yours."

"Yeah?" the third broke in boldly. "Even if we don't, there's three of us and one of you. How the hell would you stop us?"

Eddward smiled past his angry grimace, and held up the notebook as if teasing an animal with it. "I wouldn't have to, if you continue to be this careless. But... if you ever, _ever_ _touch my things again_, I will ruin you." His eyes flashed with anger. "Do you believe I will not, or cannot?"

Jackson stared at the ground, his arm limp in Eddward's grasp. With one last dig of his nail, Eddward released him, and he yanked his arm away and stumbled back. The third boy, cowed and unsettled and burning with indignity, turned his face toward the other two.

"_Shit, the little dweeb told._" It was barely a whisper, only a notch above simply mouthing the words.

"I find it insulting," Eddward answered dryly, "that you believe I would require _him_ for such information. Oh, I might be led astray temporarily, but I always find out about things that... _upset_ me. Do not for one moment think that I repeat mistakes, or that I will _ever_ look the other way again." He looked at each of them in turn, injecting a hard meaning into each word that not even mediocre track athletes of mundane intelligence could miss. "Do try to exercise a bit more prudence in the future. If there is one for you. After all, whether or not I consider this matter settled is _my _business, though it may become yours very soon." He turned away, tucking the notebook under his arm. "I encourage you to think about that, anyhow. Good day, gentleman."

They did not follow him.

_Juniors,_ he thought dismissively. Old enough to be upperclassmen, and young enough to be foolish about it. He might not have tried this by himself, had they been of equal standing. Proper revenge would take some more thinking, of course. And perhaps a bit of delegation.

His assertion had been more or less true, anyway; Kevin had not, in fact, told him of the specific culprits. However, he remembered their faces from the other day, when he had witnessed them assaulting Kevin in an empty hallway. He had seen Jackson shoving the notebook in his backpack, deaf to Kevin's protests, as the other two beat their victim bloody. Once he knew the full story, and recalled what few words Kevin had managed to shout at him as he had walked away, the connection was utterly transparent. It had taken moments for him to work it out on his own, this time with a clear head.

Still.

He had been _wrong_.

Disgusted, either with himself or with the students he had just left, he distracted himself by inspecting his thumbnail. A bit of blood darkened beneath the crescent, crusting and drying against the keratin. He grimaced.

"Filthy, filthy, filthy," he muttered, and jogged to duck into the nearest restroom.

* * *

Kevin found himself dreading AP Physics a bit more than normal. It was one of the classes he shared with Eddward, and after his outburst during break, even after the pep talk he had just received during lunch, he was reluctant to face him again that day.

Nazz shared this class with him, which was a mercy, especially since she sat only two desks down, while Eddward had been assigned a seat farther to the back. He had yet to arrive. Nervously, Kevin glanced at her, and she offered an encouraging smile. It only helped a little, but it did help.

He pulled out his homework from the night before, and placed it on his desk as close to him as he could nudge it without sliding it all the way into his lap. Head bowed, he bent over it so that he didn't have to look at anyone that came through the door, even in the corner of his vision. With one hand he braced the side of his head and propped it up with his elbow on the desk. With the other, he traced over the paper with the tip of his pencil on the pretense of checking his answers.

Familiar footsteps almost dragged his gaze upward, but he lowered his head farther, narrowed his eyes, and refused to answer the urge, even when they approached him at an easy pace. Eddward was going to pass right by him, damn it, even though his body language and the fact that he was only taking up the portion of his desk closest to him were jointly screaming _GO AWAY_. Though, let's face it, it wasn't as if he would have expected Eddward to pay attention, even on the best of days.

The footsteps were almost at his desk now. Kevin braced himself. _He's not there. Just pretend he's not there_. As if that had ever worked before.

A pause, right in front of him and a touch to the right. And then, something placed gently on his desk, and slid toward him with a careful hand. Kevin did not look up, even as Eddward stepped past him without a word.

Once he heard Eddward take his seat behind him, Kevin mustered the nerve to lift his eyes to the object in front of him.

He sat bolt upright, eyes going wide with shock.

His red notebook, full of diagrams and designs and notes and sketches that he could hardly bear to show anyone, the one that he had more or less given up for lost, now lay before him, smelling faintly of disinfectant spray. Like most things that came into Eddward's possession, it was neatly labeled.

_Apology_.

Kevin gaped at it, only just managing to keep from going slack-jawed like an idiot. Struck by a sudden boldness, he glanced as casually as he could over his shoulder. Apparently, Eddward had chosen the same strategy he had, and now sat with his face resting in one hand, apparently going over his notes from yesterday. Kevin was about to turn around again when the swimmer's eyes flickered up and met his.

For a moment the two of them simply stared at each other, one bewildered and searching, the other guarded and hiding.

After a moment, Eddward broke the eye contact and returned to his notes. Kevin turned back to his notebook and opened it.

The first page had been defaced, regrettably, but to his good fortune they had apparently gotten bored quickly. He flipped through the pages, relieved that there were no more scrawlings of "NERD" and "DWEEB" and "VIRGIN" on the rest of his designs, although...

_Someone_ had gone in and made corrections, he realized with no small amount of annoyance. That he was unable to argue with most of the corrections did little to lessen it. Rolling his eyes, he turned to the last page and glanced at the diagram he had been working on just before he had lost it.

No corrections. No additions, no crossed-out portions of his notes. Just two words scrawled in the margin.

_Thank you_.

Well, hell. Maybe there was hope for the human race thing after all.

* * *

**And that's the last of it. Thank you all for your kind comments, and for giving my humble little story a chance to entertain you. If you read this and enjoyed it, then consider me gratified.**

**I have another story in the works, also Reverse!Kevedd (the universe, at least; as with this story, the pairing itself won't actually happen, at least romantically). It will be titled "On the Head of a Pin", and I hope to start posting in the foreseeable future.**

**Happy reading, lovelies!**


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